


Letters Pray

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-08
Updated: 2002-02-08
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Sk/D. Next in the 'Letter' stories. The story is a continuation of the 'Letter' series, and starts on the Monday after 'that' weekend. Nearly harmless Doggett torture. Humour. Angst and a little bit of smut. An accident, a revelation and the shit hits the fan. BTW, I'm an artist, not a medic, so all symptoms and other medical reactions are purely used as plot devises.





	Letters Pray

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Letters Pray

## Letters Pray

#### by Forbes

Title: Letters Pray  
Author: Forbes  
Feedback to:   
Author's Website:   
Status: Complete  
Category: Humor, Romance, Angst  
Pairing (Primary): Skinner/Doggett  
Pairing(s) (Secondary):   
Crossover Fandom (if any):   
Crossover Info (if any):   
Other Pairing Info:   
Rating: NC-17  
Spoilers: No. I just play happily in my own little universe.  
Permission to Archive: Anyplace, but it'd be nice to know where, so I can come and look.  
Series or Sequel/Prequel: Next in the 'Letter' stories.  
Notes: Thanks: This story wasn't going to happen until Georgia hinted that she wanted to know what happens when. Thanks for the beta, G. There's also a tiny bit contained within that was directly inspired by the wonderful manipulation 'Snuggle', by Mrs. Fish - Thank you!   
  
Warnings:   
Disclaimer:   
Summary: Sk/D. Next in the 'Letter' stories.   
The story is a continuation of the 'Letter' series, and starts on the Monday after 'that' weekend. Nearly harmless Doggett torture. Humour. Angst and a little bit of smut. An accident, a revelation and the shit hits the fan. BTW, I'm an artist, not a medic, so all symptoms and other medical reactions are purely used as plot devises.

* * *

Monday.   
Hoover Building.   
Lunchtime. 

Chapter 1. 

This was not a good idea, Doggett thought, hurrying down the corridor. Actually, it was not just a bad idea, it was a monumentally, fuckin' enormously bad idea. He strode quickly, tugging at the knot of his tie and shoving his left hand out to glance at his watch He scowled. Shit. Running late. How the goddamned hell had he let himself get talked into this? He must be out of his freakin' mind, lettin' his sister within a mile of the Hoover Building without a gag and restraints. Shit-shit-shit, he muttered under his breath. 

Agent Scully had looked at him like he was sprouting horns when he turned her down for lunch. Their normal routine consisted of lunch at the local deli if they were free, with Mulder tagging along if he was really unlucky. It was an annoyance he tolerated in deference to her obvious affection for the other man. He wasn't going to jeopardise anything because he found Mulder as annoying as a spider in a wet-suit. Hell, it had taken Scully so long to look at him without him wondering where she was planning to stab him with a knife, that he jumped at any chance to improve their working relationship. Sometimes what with their workload, they went weeks without lunching together, but he always accepted her invitations. Always, without fail. Until today. 

And here he was ditching her for an appointment that he had been incredibly vague about. Vague, evasive and downright embarrassed. Damn, he hated not telling her the truth, but he knew sure as God made little fishes, there was no way Scully would be able to resist asking to meet his sister. And as for Mulder getting his profiling eyes on her, with what she knew, it was enough to make him want to cry. Uh-uh. No way, Jose. 

The only crumb of consolation to be gleaned, was that Maddi wasn't with her. Thank God she'd had to catch her plane back to New York. Not that he didn't like the woman, hell, he liked her well enough to share a night of hot sex, but perversely, this was just too much. Having her stalk through his workplace in her shiny 'fuck-me' pumps and wicked sense of humour was enough to send him into early retirement. Enforced early retirement, if she happened to mention the wrong thing to the wrong person. Like Kersh. Or Mulder... Hell, even Scully. Mind you, even his Sally knew enough to send Kersh into a disciplinary frenzy. 

He picked up the pace, the mere thought of Mulder in conversation with his sister, snapping at his heels. Gotta get her out of the building before Scully went to lunch. Soles squeaking on the polished surface, he skidded round the corner towards the busy main foyer. Around the corner and slap-bang into someone walking the opposite way. 

"Yow!" 

"Hell!" 

In a tangle of humiliatingly entangled arms and legs, two bodies did an off-balance dance for a second or two, before descending on the tiles of the Hoover building. Someones else's sprawled form helped break Doggett's fall, all except his left cheek, which smacked juicily onto the floor next to the other person's head. Grunting under the weight of a Doggett in full flight, the other agent might have considered himself the injured party, but as luck would have it, the knee that jutted upwards more than evened out the distribution of agony. Doggett and said knee introduced themselves. 

"Oh! Christ...." As his balls squashed up against his pelvis, the rest of the world ceased to exist for John Doggett. 

The focus of his entire universe lay crushed between his legs. The crowds, his sister and person beneath him, were all forgotten in the white noise of his agony. Guts tightened and knees drew up over the person trapped beneath him. What air that remained in his lungs hissed out between clenched teeth, misting up on the cold floor. 

"Hey!" Somewhere beneath him, a voice spoke. 

Doggett ignored it. He concentrated instead on cupping indignant balls, his eyes tightly shut, stalling tears. He couldn't breathe properly - his mouth hung open, but oxygen was stuck in his throat, unable to get past the scream wedged sideways in his mouth. He would not scream... He would not scream... The chant rattled around in Doggett's head, keeping the lone thought company that told him any minute now, he was going to scream like a girl. He held on gently, but very tightly to his balls, holding them together, trying to stop them from exploding all over the foyer. Not a happy thought, the contents of his scrotum scattered across the entrance to Hoover Building. 

"Hey, Doggett..." That voice again. 

Doggett continued to ignore it. He needed to concentrate on keeping his breakfast down and his hands very still. The body underneath his wriggled around, knocking his hands. He groaned thinly. 

"Hey... You okay?" the voice asked. 

Stupid fuckin' question. Maybe he should throw up all over this jerk, by way of an answer. He arched his back, relishing the flare of pain in his bruised face, the tiled floor blessedly cool under his hot cheek. 

"Doggett?" 

Shut up. Go away... Leave me be. Breath hitched in Doggett's chest, making him wonder if he was going to cry, after all. That'd just be the icing on the cake - lying flat out on the floor, with his balls mashed to hell and cryin' like a baby. Just perfect. The man was clutching his arms, trying to push him up, and holding a conversation with someone standing over them. Oh, this just got better and better. The ironic side of Doggett's humour revelled in the knowledge that a crowd appeared to be forming around the pair of them. This couldn't happen somewhere quiet - Oh no. Had to be the middle of the Hoover foyer, at peak visiting hour. Wasn't he the lucky one? 

"God! You're heavier than you look, Doggett." 

The irritating voice laughed in his ear. Smart-assed bastard, Doggett thought, sourly. Kick me in the balls then tell me I'm fat. Thanks a bunch. 

"Shut up, Mulder." A voice from way up high filtered through his pain-logged brain, and straight into his slowly shrivelling dignity. No. It couldn't be. God couldn't hate him that much. Surely not. 

"Hey, Scully, like to see you having him lying all over you like a San Francisco fog." 

The comment was followed by a gratingly familiar chuckle. So, it was official. God hated him. 

* * *

Chapter 2. 

Please... Let me die, Doggett begged inside his head. He groaned as Mulder wriggled his way out from underneath his body. The other man seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time to get free, jiggling his body, touching far more than Doggett was happy with, but then again, any touching at all from Mulder was too much, as far as Doggett was concerned. 

If he had the strength, he'd really take exception to the way the other agent slipped his hand inside his jacket to push up against his chest. He really didn't think there was any need to linger quite so long. And what was that with running his hand down to his hip? That was totally fuckin' uncalled for... Or was he just being over-sensitive? Well fuck it, his demeanour may as well match his balls, which felt sensitive enough for the entire eastern seaboard. He moaned as Mulder moved from under him and his knees slid together, trapping his hands. 

"Be careful, Mulder. You're hurting him." 

Again, thought Doggett. 

"Am not!" 

"Well just take care," Scully scolded, her voice swimming into his ears as she got nearer. 

She must be kneeling down. Couldn't be easy, what with carrying that kid. 

"He crashed into me," Mulder protested. 

"Stop whining, Mulder." 

Yeah! Way to go, Agent Scully, Doggett cheered internally, still too shell-shocked to do anything more responsive than groan. 

"Agent Doggett?" Scully's voice floated nearer. "Can you hear me? Where are you injured?" 

Another stupid question. Not worth opening my eyes for that. 

"Maybe he gets off on the smell of floor polish." 

Maybe I'll get my breath back and punch your lights out, smartypants. Doggett rubbed his face on the floor. 

"You're not helping, Mulder." 

"Well? What d'you want me to do? Kiss him better?" 

Don't even think about it, pal. Doggett grimaced. 

"Mulder, take a look at his face. He's in pain. Have a little compassion." 

"Just offering my services." 

"Please don't feel you have to. Now move over. I need to look." 

Look at what? Doggett wondered. Then a small hand pulling at his hands let him know what she wanted to look at. Shit! That one opened his eyes. 

"That got his attention," Mulder sniggered. 

Scully sighed, and pulled gently at Doggett's wrist. "Agent Doggett? Can you hear me? I need you to let go." 

Not a chance, Doggett thought, his hands still firmly clamped over throbbing genitals. 

"Agent Doggett..." Her fingers pulled more firmly. 

No freakin' way, Agent Scully. Doggett turned his head to glare at her. 

"Woah!" Mulder pointed at his face and whistled through his teeth. 

Doggett watched a frown form between Scully's eyebrows, and to his relief, her hand let go of him and came up to cup his face. 

"John?" She touched her other hand to his brow, making him wince as she poked. 

"Look at me." She moved her finger from side to side. "Can you see this?" 

Swallowing, Doggett's tongue flicked out. He could answer her, it was just a matter of getting his words sorted out. He took an experimental deep breath to make sure he could. It didn't make him sick, so maybe he was gonna live a bit longer. 

"Yeah," he croaked. "I see it." 

"Good. Tell me how many fingers." 

Stupid questions, again. He'd got a knee in the balls, not brain-damage. 

"One." 

Scully nodded, satisfied. "Okay, then." She stroked the bump on the side of his face. The skin under her fingers hurt like a bitch and felt like soggy cabbage. She pursed her lips. "Probably bruise up beautifully, but I don't think it's too serious." 

Could have told you that, Doggett thought, wondering if it was okay for him to try and sit up yet, if she'd finished poking him. He watched as her gaze travelled down. Ah. 

She touched the back of his hand. "Think you could let go?" 

No. Hands gripped tightly, unintentionally pinching himself. He shook his head. 

"I'm fine, Agent Scully," he lied, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. 

"No, you're not," she told him sternly. 

"I am." Relentlessly stubborn in the face of balls that were screaming 'Dixie' under his hands. 

She pulled a little harder, testing his grip. 

His grip was just peachy, he thought, trying not to wince. There was no way she was going to touch his balls, publicly or privately for that matter. And he'd be damned if she was going to do it in front of Fox Mulder. That was just so far out of the question as to be unthinkable. Besides, any investigation of damage to his manhood was going to be carried out very carefully, in the privacy of a bathroom stall, thank you very much. 

"Agent Doggett..." Scully began, patiently, as if talking to a small child. "I am a doctor." 

"Not mine," Doggett told her. 

"Don't be childish." 

Next to her, Mulder sniggered. Doggett glared at him. 

"Best let her have her way, Doggett." 

"No." 

Scully sighed. "John..." 

"I said no." 

Mulder shook his head. "She'll hurt you." 

"What? More than you did?" He couldn't resist that. 

"Ouch." 

"Yeah..." He glanced down towards his hands. "Ouch." 

"What's going on?" 

Doggett looked up as the owner of that familiar voice moved into view. Sally. Oh, again... Just perfect. 

"One of our agents has taken a bit of a tumble, Ma'am," Mulder announced, grinning. 

"No need for concern." 

Yes, there was fuckin' need for concern, Doggett thought. His balls fell like they were gonna pop. 

"Oh, John!" Sal dropped to her knees beside him, hand on his shoulder. 

Doggett sighed and closed his eyes, but not before catching sight of the exchange of glances between Scully and her pet freak. 

"What happened?" 

Doggett opened his mouth to reply, but Mulder beat him to it. 

"Seems Agent Doggett took a bit of a tumble and a blow to the, um..." He grinned. "Extremities." 

Sal frowned at him, distractedly. "The what?" 

Mulder laughed outright, making Doggett's teeth clench. 

"You know..." Mulder tipped his head to indicate below Doggett's belt, but 

Scully held up her hand to stop whatever outrageous comment Mulder had planned. She looked over and addressed Sally. 

"Excuse me. You know Agent Doggett?" 

"Yes." Sal gently squeezed the shoulder under her hand. "He's my brother." 

No mistaking the incredulous look between the other two, this time. And it pissed Doggett off. What did they think he was hatched, fully formed from an Easter egg? 

"I'm sorry," Scully said extending her hand across Doggett's body. "I didn't realise. Pleased to meet you. I'm Dana Scully, John's partner." 

Sally smiled and took the hand. "I'm Sal Doggett." She rolled her eyes, stating the obvious. "Hi there, Agent Scully. John's spoken about you." She glanced over to Mulder. He was staring. And that pissed Doggett off even more. 

"And you are?" Sal asked. 

"Fascinated," replied Mulder, tilting his head this way and that. "You don't look a bit alike." He grinned. "Apart from maybe the eyes." 

Sal smiled back at him. "Oh, I don't know..." 

Okay. Time out. Doggett cleared his throat. "Can I get a hand up, here?" He leaned forward. 

Scully's hand shot up and pinned him to the floor. "Not yet, Agent Doggett. I'm not convinced you're in any condition to move." 

"I'm fine," Doggett frowned, levering himself to a sitting position, straining against Scully's hand. He needed to get Sal out of here, he didn't like the way Mulder was looking at her. 

"If you're fine, Agent Doggett, then why are you still holding on to your testicles?" 

Doggett stared, then coloured up. Damn. He looked down. Busted. 

"What's wrong with them?" Sal asked. 

What indeed? Doggett glared at Mulder. 

"My fault, I'm afraid my knee kind of wandered between Agent Doggett's legs." 

"How 'bout that," Sal said dryly, a grin turning up one side of her mouth, Mulder pointed in wonder. 

"Ah! Now I see it. You do look like him!" 

"Now that we've established my sister's provenance, d'you think I could get up now?" 

Doggett grumbled. This was just too much, sitting here like an idiot, holding his nuts. He forced himself to release them. Gingerly, one hand let go. He grimaced. Shit, they hurt. 

"I still think you need to be looked at, Agent Doggett." Scully raised her eyebrow as he peeled his other hand away from his crotch, forcing himself not to look for blood. Felt like they split open in his pants. 

"I'm..." he started to say. 

"Yes... 'Fine', I know." Scully rolled her eyes. 

"Hopeless, isn't he?" Sal commented, reaching to slide her fingers through Doggett's hair. "Never admits when he's hurting." 

"It's a guy thing," said Mulder, watching the progress of Sal's fingers, a slight smile playing on his lips. 

"Tell me about it." Sal laughed. "I did this to him, once. Caught him right in the cajones." She winked at Scully. 

"He screamed like a banshee, then five minutes later, tried to tell Mama he was fine." 

"Really?" 

Scully sounded far too interested for Doggett's liking. Last thing he needed was her and his sister to 'bond'. 

Sal clucked. "Found him behind the woodshed, puking his guts up." She did the annoying hair-ruffle thing. "Pa had to hold him down so Mama could look-see." 

Doggett groaned at the memory. "Jeez, Sal. I was twenty five years old. You got any idea how humiliating that was?" He shook his head. 

"Little sisters. They'll do it do you every time," Mulder nodded, sagely. 

Doggett glared with one eye. Correction: the last thing he needed was for him and Mulder to 'bond'. 

He jerked his head away from Sal's fingers, biting back a groan as his vision greyed, a sigh trickled out from between his lips. 

"You people wanna let me get up, here? I feel kinda stupid, sitting on the floor." 

"You may have done some real damage, Agent Doggett," Scully said, laying her hand on his other shoulder. 

"You mean Muldah may have done some damage." 

Scully squeezed. "You know what I mean." 

"I'm fine." He looked from one woman to the other. "Just let me get up." 

"No," the two women chorused. 

"Outnumbered, my man," said Mulder, shaking his head. 

Doggett glared again, opening his mouth to bark something rude. 

Another voice interrupted. "Is there a problem?" 

Doggett glanced up, knowing what he was going to see on the other end of the shiny shoes beside Scully. Oh, man. Fate was really going for it today. 

"Hello, Assistant Director." Scully looked up. "I'm afraid Agent Doggett has been injured. But he refuses to seek medical help." 

Tattle-tale, Doggett thought, miserably. 

"Injured?" To give him his due, Skinner didn't let anything other than mild concern colour his words. He was good. 

"I kinda wacked him in the balls, sir," Mulder stood up. 

Skinner's eyebrow rose. "And you did this because..." 

Mulder shuffled. "An accident. He ran into me and we fell, and I just..." he trailed off, waving a hand down at Doggett. "You know." 

Skinner looked back down at the floor. One of those eyebrows started to wander up his forehead. 

"And are you incapacitated, Agent Doggett?" he asked. 

Doggett pulled an embarrassed face. 

"No, sir. I just seem to be having a little trouble persuading these ladies to let me get up." Glaring at each woman in turn, until they released him. He put a hand to the floor and began to lever himself up. He got about half way, before a groan slipped past his defences. 

A dark eyebrow quirked. "Can you manage, Agent Doggett?" 

"Yeah..." Doggett sucked in several calming breaths. Shit. He was not going to let the assembled crowd know it felt like he'd got two fuckin' great carving knives buried in his crotch. Uh-uh. Way too embarrassing. 

"You don't look well," Skinner commented. 

Biting back several sharp retorts that might have gotten him an official reprimand, Doggett shook his head and concentrated on getting all the way upright. 

"I'm fine," he snapped from behind tightly clenched teeth. 

"He keeps saying that," Sal tutted. "But I'm sure he's not." 

"So you're an expert on my body, now are you?" Doggett couldn't stop the snippy remark escaping. 

"No. Just on common sense. Something you seem to be sorely lacking." 

"Sorely is about right." Skinner bent his head a touch to peer into Doggett's face. 

"You look pale, Agent Doggett. I think you should..." 

"I am not lettin' Agent Scully fish around inside my pants!" he yelled, pulling himself upright with some difficulty. His guts seemed to be attached to his balls by red-hot wires. 

"I had no intention of 'fishing'," Scully told him, holding her hands out to Mulder to help her up. "None whatsoever, Agent Doggett." 

He just grunted at her, unconsciously rubbing low on his belly with one hand. 

"What I was going to say, if you had let me finish..." Skinner gave him a look. "Was that you should go lie down. Get yourself sorted out." 

Doggett had the grace to look embarrassed. "Oh." 

"Oh, indeed." Skinner pulled his hands out of his overcoat and pointed to the elevators. "There's a couch in my office. Go." 

"I was on my break..." 

"You still are. Go lie down." 

"But I was gonna go out to lunch," Doggett wondered if it sounded like he was whining. 

"And now you're not." Skinner sighed and folded his arms. "Agent Doggett. It really is quite simple. You either submit to a medical examination, or you go and lie down until you look less like you're going to vomit all over the floor at any moment." 

Mulder made a little noise, and out of the corner of his eye, Doggett saw Scully nudge him. 

"Do I make myself perfectly clear?" 

Doggett wondered what the odds were on him making a break for the door, and guessed, with miserable certainty, that he'd get about three feet in his present condition. Shit. 

He sighed. "Dammit. I'm..." 

Sal threw up her hands. "John! For goodness sake! Be told, will you?" 

All heads turned to look at her. 

Scully held out an introductory hand in the silence that followed. "Assistant Director Skinner - this is Agent Doggett's sister." 

Sal grinned, and for a horrible moment, Doggett envisioned her stepping forward and embracing Skinner, in a dance-floor re-run from Saturday night. He held his breath. Please no.. Behave, Sal.. Her hand extended gracefully towards Skinner. 

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Sarah Doggett." She grinned wider as Skinner took her hand in his. "But you can call me Sal." 

"Walter Skinner, Ma'am," Skinner rumbled in his deep voice, his face perfectly composed. 

No indication of anything other than polite interest. Certainly not the fact that he'd had his tongue in her mouth two nights ago. Shit, he was good, thought Doggett. 

"Are you John's boss?" Sal asked, innocence personified. Skinner inclined his head. "I suppose you could say that." 

"Well then make it an order. You can do that, can't you? Make him do whatever you want. Be the boss?" She had big wide eyes, a slight smile on her face, and Doggett felt his belly clench in a way that had nothing to do with his aching balls. 

Oh shit, but she was sailing close, he thought, uncomfortably. But Skinner just nodded. 

"Yes, yes I can, Miss Doggett. But I would rather let my Agents make their own decisions regarding their actions." He glanced across. "And I have every confidence Agent Doggett will make the right choice." 

Doggett sighed again. Goddamn. He'd better say something before they started talking about some other horrendous choice, like 'lifestyles'. "Okay...okay. I'll do it." 

Mulder leaned forward, eyes wide. "You gonna let Scully go fishing?" 

"No, Muldah." He glared at the grinning man. " I meant I'll go and lie down." 

"Oh." Mulder turned to Scully. "Disappointed, Scul?" 

She gave him a filthy look. "Shut up Mulder." 

"I shall be happy to escort your sister to my office, Agent." 

Skinner stepped back. "If you'd like to step this way, Miss Doggett." 

Sal smiled demurely. "Why thank you, Assistant Director." She smiled. "But may I call you..." 

Oh God, Doggett thought, he was gonna kill her. She batted her eyes up at Skinner, seemingly oblivious to the looks Mulder and Scully were giving each other. 

"Walter, isn't it?" 

Skinner held out his arm. "It is. Shall we?" 

Then arm in arm, he and Sal moved to the elevator, leaving a hunched Doggett and two incredulous agents staring after them. This was just peachy, Doggett thought, stepping gingerly forward, keeping his legs as far apart as he comfortably could. He duck-walked to the open car, trying not to let his hands wander down to hold on to himself. Just freakin' peachy. 

* * *

Chapter 3. 

He had to admit, the couch was an inspired idea. It was long enough to stretch out, and comfortable enough to almost let him forget about the pounding throb in his underpants. Shifting a little, Doggett sighed. Not only were his balls still humming, but the bruise on his face had decided to make an appearance. It was beating in time to his pulse, in a crazy counterpoint to his groin. The Advil Skinner had handed out was taking a bitch of a long time to kick in. He grimaced. Don't think about kicking. 

"How're you feeling, Johnny?" Sal knelt by the couch. She smiled down at him. 

He grunted. "Sore." 

Leaning in to place a little kiss on his forehead, she smiled. "There, now that didn't hurt, did it?" 

"What?" 

"Admitting you're not invincible." 

He widened his eyes. "I'm not?" 

"Silly." She slapped his shoulder lightly. "The pain meds helping?" 

He shook his head. "Uh-uh. Not yet." 

"Poor baby." 

"Don't mock the afflicted." He craned his head up. "And where's Walt gone?" 

"I dunno. Talking to his assistant, I think. I'll go see." She stood up and wandered across the office. 

Doggett smiled to himself. Maybe getting a wack in the balls wasn't such a tragedy, after all. At least he got to spend his lunchbreak with Walt. Certainly beat wrestling with the crowds in town. He could always take Sal to the cafeteria later. Not very fancy, but that couldn't be helped. A sudden stab of pain reminded him that lunch was no great trade for a pair of sore balls and a black eye. Maybe he should have a quick check. 

He slid his hand under his belt, tentatively working his way down. He didn't really think there was anything seriously wrong, but it was just one of those guy-things that made him want to make sure just the same. Under the hem of his boxers, and down. Shit, his hands were cold. Frowning, he spread his legs to cup the battered balls. Gently... gently... he told himself. Just a little feel... 

"Need any help?" 

Jumping guiltily, he squeezed too hard and winced. 

"Shit!" 

"Told you, you should have let Scully do that." 

"Muldah! What the hell are you doing here?" Screwing up his face, he tried to pull his hand out, but got it stuck. 

"Making sure you're okay." Mulder nodded, grinning. "Are you?" 

"I think so," Doggett told him, ungraciously, trying to get his hand out before he went any redder. "Guilty conscience, Agent Mulder?" 

"About catching you feeling yourself up?" 

Doggett growled. "About kneeing me in the nuts." 

Mulder shook his head, happily, "Nah. Was your fault, for not looking where..." 

"What?!" 

Mulder shrugged. "You were the one rushing." 

Unable to think of anything suitably cutting, Doggett had to make do with glaring. Which from his current position, supine and with his hand down his pants, wasn't gonna work, but he went with it anyway. 

The other man just grinned at him. "So. They both still there?" 

"Why you askin'?" Doggett grouched, lying in an uncomfortable mixture of guilt and irritation. "Wanna give me a second opinion?" 

Mulder tilted his head. "So, what d'you reckon, Scully? Think he needs a second opinion?" 

Doggett snapped his head round as Scully stepped up to the couch. 

"Yes." She arched an eyebrow at his scrabbling hand, then looked up at the scarlet face. "But I don't think he is going to allow it." She smiled, compounding Doggett's mortification. "Are you, Agent Doggett?" 

"I..." He jerked his hand out, bringing his shirt tail with him. He bent to pluck at the material, hating the blush that he knew was all over his face. "No." 

"Thought not." She glanced at Mulder. "That's why I requested that AD Skinner..." 

"WHAT!?" Doggett stared up, wild-eyed. 

"Hey, Doggett, calm yourself." Mulder waggled his eyebrows in that tormenting fashion of his. 

"Mulder..." Scully rolled her eyes. 

She couldn't mean... "What the hell are you suggesting?" 

"I thought you might be more comfortable with..." 

"NO!" 

He was aware that his reaction totally outweighed the seriousness of the situation, but he seemed incapable of stopping himself from sounding like a hysterical girl. It didn't help a bit that any second now, his eyeballs were going to drop out of his head, pushed out by his throbbing brain. 

"Agent Doggett..." Scully folded her arms. 

"What part of 'no', don't you understand, woman?" 

He watched her eyebrow crawl up in the heavy silence that plopped between them. Shit. 

"Oh, man. You did it now." Mulder shook his head. 

"Perhaps you would prefer Agent Mulder to..." 

"God dammit to HELL!" 

"Please mind your language in my office, Agent Doggett." Skinner moved to stand at Scully's shoulder. 

Shit! 

"But she was...." 

"I know what she was suggesting, Agent. And I think it a wise precaution." 

**"WHAT!!"**

He wasn't serious? Surely he wasn't serious. No way. He wouldn't... For cryin' out loud, he was the one always harping on about office restraint and maintaining their distance at work! How the hell was he supposed to maintain distance with his nose inches from his balls? 

"I think that someone needs to..." 

Mulder would have a field-day... He could never look the other agent in the face, knowing that he knew that Skinner had inspected... Never mind that the other man was more than familiar with his equipment, it made him queasy to think that everyone would know what Skinner had done. An image of frogs on lab tables danced in his head. Spread out... Exposed... The gossip raging through the building. 

Doggett leaped up off the sofa, not caring that his shirt was untucked, mindless of his socked feet, not even feeling the pain and wave of sickness from standing too quickly. 

"No thank you, very much. I'm fine. I'll just be going now." He started to move to the door. 

"Agent Doggett," Skinner frowned at him. "What on earth has gotten into you?" 

You mean besides you, sir? Doggett thought hysterically, hoping he didn't say that out loud. 

"Thank you for the offer..." He nodded at Scully. "And the suggestion. But I think I'll pass, if it's all the same to you." Would he ever! 

"But aren't you hungry?" 

Doggett looked blankly. "What?" 

Every pair of eyes in the room stared at him. He shuffled, suddenly uncomfortable. 

"We were referring to ordering in lunch." A familiar eyebrow rose. "What did you think we were talking about, Agent Doggett?" 

Shit. Shit-shit-shit. 

"Er..." Doggett fingered the bottom of his shirt tail as the picture cleared. "Um..." 

"Maybe that bang on the head was harder than we thought." Scully moved to stand in front of him, brandishing a tiny penlight. 

Where the hell did she keep that, he wondered? 

"Let me see your eyes, Agent Doggett." He looked meekly at her as she flashed one pupil, then the other. He kept his eyes straight ahead, not trusting himself to look at either Mulder or Skinner. 

"Seems equal and reactive." She put the back of her hand to his forehead. "Do you have a headache?" 

Yes, he thought. A great big stomping, fuckin' headache. 

He lied. "No." 

No sense inviting trouble. 

"He wouldn't tell you if his head was cut off," Sal said, squeezing between Scully and Skinner. "Would you, John?" 

Doggett shrugged, helplessly. He moved back to the sofa and sat down, very gently. Best to keep quiet. They might go away. 

"I asked Kim to place an order with Gino's. Is that okay?" 

Doggett looked up at him. He nodded. Anything. Cafeteria sandwiches. Dog food. Humble pie. Anything was fine with him. 

Sal smiled. "Perhaps Agents Mulder and Scully would like to join us?" 

Doggett looked at her. No, he tried to tell her. Not a good idea. 

"Sounds great!" Mulder clapped his hands together. "What d'you say, Scul?" 

"If it's okay with the Assistant Director." 

"Not a problem, Agent Scully." 

Doggett watched as Sal moved away to take Scully's arm and guide her to the table. And amazingly, Scully allowed it. He was sure she'd shoot him if he tried that. 

"You need to take the weight off, Dana." 

Dana?? When had it become Dana? 

"Sit here with me. We can swap stories about John while we wait for the food." 

The hairs on the back of Doggett's neck stood up. 

"I don't know if I have any stories you might be interested in," Scully smiled, allowing herself to be seated at the conference table. 

"That's okay," Sal told her, sitting in the next chair and winking at Doggett. 

"I have a million of them." 

"Really?" Mulder moved to sit the other side of her. 

"Sure." Sal laughed. "Bet you can't guess what his nickname was!" 

On the sofa, Doggett put his head in his hands, wincing at the bruise on his face, and sighed. It was gonna be a long fuckin' lunchbreak. 

* * *

Chapter 4. 

As it turned out, it wasn't that bad. There had been a nasty moment when he thought he might pass out, moving too quickly from the sofa to the table, but by holding on to the back of the chair and breathing deeply, he managed okay. He would not faint. Men did not faint. Marines did not faint, he told himself, while his head warned him that any more sudden movements and he was going to pass out whether he like it or not. 

He had sat very still throughout the meal, acutely aware of the hard chair seat, and the fact that he'd left his appetite on the foyer floor. It was an unaccustomed struggle, but he managed to force down enough food to keep anyone from enquiring after his health. Thankfully, Sal kept the humiliation to a minimum. Which was a minor miracle. He would have to remember to thank her, later. Buy her flowers, or something. 

It could have been so much worse. The story about the little thing with the feminine articles and his football injury could have been omitted, but it made Mulder choke on his french bread, so that was good. Even Scully laughed out loud when she heard how Doggett had let Sal shave his legs the summer she turned 15. So maybe a little humiliation was okay. 

At least she'd kept it reasonably clean. What she didn't do, however, was keep from flirting with Skinner. Okay, so he knew how she felt about his boss, but it was a whole different ball of wax to watch her in action, after what had happened that weekend. Was she doing it to be outrageous? To embarrass Walt, which was failing miserably, he noted. Or was it to deflect from the reality of the situation between the two men? That was a pretty cool move, if it was. 

He watched Mulder watching her with rapt concentration, bright hazel eyes, darting back and forth between her and Skinner, taking everything in. Filing it all away inside that profiler's steel-trap mind of his. Doggett wondered what he was making of it all. How did Skinner's reactions weigh up in that sorting box that was Fox Mulder's head? He wouldn't have said Skinner was flirting back, but he was relaxed, sociable and smiling, a sight he noted with interest, kept drawing Mulder's eyes. 

He hid the last of his sandwich under his salad. Maybe that little talk with Walt about Agent Mulder's inclinations was way overdue. 

"And you didn't get a spanking?" Scully asked, shaking her head, smiling. "My father would have popped a hip if he'd caught me doing that." 

Sal leaned towards Doggett and pulled down on his ear. 

"Johnny took the rap for me." She kissed his unbruised cheek and let go of his lobe. 

"Told Papa it was his lighter." 

"You smoke?" Scully asked him, laughing. 

"I gave up." Doggett rubbed his ear, mildly embarrassed. "'Bout the time my father kicked my ass for burning down the back shed." He gave Sal a rueful look. "You still owe me big time for that." 

She laughed. "I'll think of something." 

"Better be somethin' good. The old man has a hell of a left foot." 

Mulder leaned forward. "You mean he really did kick your..." he waved vaguely. 

Doggett nodded, pulling a face at the memory. "Ran across the backyard 'specially." He sighed. "Should've took off when I saw him comin' for me." 

Mulder looked nonplussed. "But you would've been a grown man by then." 

Doggett smiled. "He's still my Pa. Age has no bearing on ass-kicking." 

"Your dad must be quite a character," Skinner said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. 

"He's okay," Sal said. "You just have to know how to handle him." Doggett snorted. "Daddy's girl." 

"Am not!" 

"Oh, please. You have him twisted round your little finger!" 

"And you're not a Mamma's boy?" 

Doggett willed a blush to stay down. "I don't think so." 

"Hah! Yeah, right. Momma's Golden Boy." 

"Kiss my ass, Daddy's Little Princess." 

"Wanna bite me, Dog Boy?" 

"Do you two always do this?" Skinner asked, looking from one to the other. 

Doggett looked at him, then at Sal. They shrugged at each other. 

"Do what?" 

Skinner waved his crunched up napkin. "This... Arguing, whatever. Fighting." 

Sal looked blank. "We're not fighting." 

Skinner's eyes widened behind his glasses. "You're not?" 

"Nope." She looked at Doggett. "Are we?" 

He shook his head and smiled. He pointed knowingly at Skinner. "Only child." 

Sal nodded in agreement. "Yeah." 

"That has nothing to do with it." 

"It means you have no point of reference, AD Skinner." 

"Reference for what?" 

"Normal sibling interaction." 

"And I suppose you do?" 

Doggett waved a hand at Sal. "Behold." 

Skinner snorted and threw the napkin down. "Good grief! It's not as if the two of you even grew up together." 

Doggett could have sworn he heard the sound of the napkin rolling across the plate. Oops. He looked at the other man, who suddenly realised what he's just said and swallowed. 

"I mean..." He looked from one Doggett to the other. "There must be quite an age gap..." He trailed off, obviously floundering. 

Sal reached over and patted his hand. "Walter. How sweet of you. I know I look very young, but really... You flatterer." 

Scully laughed, and broke the awkward moment. "Assistant Director, are you flirting with the visitors?" 

Doggett was delighted to watch a slow blush spread over Skinner's face. About time, he thought. At last he gets to see the older man squirm. 

"I...er..." Skinner pulled his hand from under Sal's, took his glasses off and began to polish them on his tie. 

Bingo! Time to play. 

"Cause if you are sir, I might have something to say about it," he laughed, thinking along the lines of protective big brother. And then he re-thought what he'd just said, and found himself heating up. Shit. Big brother his butt. Jealous lover, more like. Skinner stared at him, catching the double entendre. 

"No, I think he's just saying Agent Doggett looks 'old'." Mulder snorted with laughter. 

Doggett could have kissed him for missing the slip. 

"Thank you, Agent Muldah. But I don't think there's that much between you and I, is there?" 

Mulder muttered. "Yeah well, some of us wear it better than others." 

Shoving his glasses back on his face, Skinner cleared his throat. "I think that maybe we ought to make a move to get back to work, people." 

Scully pushed the plates towards Mulder. "Your turn to clean up, Mulder." 

"Why me?" Mulder bleated. 

"I'm pregnant. Sal is a guest, and John is hurt. That's why." 

"What about Skinner?" Mulder pouted, relentless. 

Skinner stood and leaned over. "The Assistant Director outranks you. That's why." 

Mulder frowned, but began to clear away the mess. Skinner turned away and winked at Doggett. 

Biting on his cheek, Doggett looked down, trying not to laugh. Bastard. He felt, rather than saw, Skinner moving closer to him. The shiny brogues appeared at the edge of his vision. He tried not to think of the big feet that lay inside them. 

"How are you feeling, John?" Skinner asked. 

He hasn't called me that in front of the others before, thought Doggett. He looked up. Over the large chest and into big brown eyes. Oh shit. Too close. He was standing too close. 

He cleared his dry throat. "Oh, okay, I guess." 

Skinner leaned down a touch and Doggett could smell his cologne. It was the one he'd bought when Skinner'd mentioned he was running low. He'd not been close enough to smell him wearing it at work before now. It was a scent he associated with lying in bed, licking along a shaven jawline, not sitting in an office at the FBI. 

"Honestly?" Skinner pressed. 

Shrugging, Doggett let his eyes slide down the silk tie in front of him, as a portion of his mind played a movie in his head. A movie where he was pulling that same tie undone, and using it to tie a large wrist to the headboard. 

"A bit sore, but okay." He shifted a bit in his chair. Holy God! Now was not the time to get a woody. 

The movie ran on. In his head, Skinner was spreadeagled on his bed, naked, sweating and erect... Doggett swallowed. Oh, please God, don't let him think of erections! 

"You look flushed." Skinner was peering down, his tie dangling loosely. 

Doggett wanted to reach out, grab it and ram his tongue between those lips. 

"I'm not convinced you're 100 percent, Agent Doggett." 

Doggett's eyes slid off the body in front of him and a tremble ran through his own. Oh God... 

"I'm fine," he lied for the second time that day, but for a different reason. 

Please move away, Walt, he thought. I can't stand this. His head was hurting. 

A big hand came out of nowhere and landed on his shoulder. It's heat burned through Doggett's thin shirt, and blazed a hot trail all the way down to his groin. 

"I don't think you..." Skinner started to say, but Doggett's resolve had fled. 

And he had to follow it, or things were going to get out of hand. 

He stood quickly, knocking the hand aside, making Skinner step back in surprise. Too quickly, it seemed. There was a sudden flare of pain in his groin, and a rush of blood to his bruised head. It made the room sway sickeningly. 

"Shit..." he muttered, reaching to keep his eyeballs from falling out of their sockets. 

Everything had gone a funny grey colour, a shade that brought his lunch creeping up his gut. Perhaps if he shut his eyes a second, he'd feel better. 

"Hey!" 

Skinner's hands were suddenly on him. Holding him to a large, warm chest that smelled wonderfully of cedar and spice. 

"Scully!" 

A deep voice full of panic, thought Doggett, as his head disappeared into a fuzzy grey bag. I know that voice. Wonder what's up with Walt, he thought as the bag slipped all the way over his head. 

* * *

Chapter 5. 

Couldn't be time to get up. The light was all wrong. The sun didn't shine through his drapes in stripes. Doggett sighed. Must be at Walt's apartment. Yeah. That was it. He turned his head and rubbed his cheek into the soft pillow. He was at Walt's. That's why he could smell him. He'd thought it funny that despite spending most of his time in Doggett's bed, there was always more of Skinner's scent between the sheets in Crystal City. He must remember to ask Walt what the bed in Falls Church smelled like to him. 

"John?" 

Doggett smiled. Walt. No-one else had a voice that could give him a hard-on. Must be time to get up. He was bone-tired. Just a bit longer. He grunted and burrowed deeper into the pillow. 

"John." 

He turned his head away from the hand patting at his face. All things considered, he preferred a kiss for a wake-up call. Five more minutes... There was a buzzing noise that sounded like the radio. Yep. Walt's bed. He always set the radio alarm to some crappy talk-show, despite Doggett always waking up before it went off. Except today. He must have been tired. 

"Five minutes," he muttered, resolutely keeping his eyes shut. "I'll get up in five." 

"Agent Doggett." 

Doggett grinned. Skinner always called him that when he teased him in bed. 

"Yeah?" he said, wondering if Walt was angling for a spot of morning sex. 

"Agent Doggett, open your eyes." 

The grin crept up his face a bit more. Oh yeah, definitely morning sex. Next thing would be 'I have something to show you' and Walt's raging boner would be waving in front of his face. 

"You want sumthin' Walt?" 

He'd make him beg this morning. Maybe on his knees. That was always good. Silence. Playing hard to get? Okay. Fair enough. 

"Agent Doggett." 

Doggett reached out, flapped about a bit and snagged a hand. He brought the hand to his mouth and kissed it. "Beg," he said. 

Silence. Frowning, Doggett put one of the fingers into his mouth and bit down gently. More silence. And then the hand was snatched away. There was playing hard to get and there was bein' plain dumb. 

"Walt?" Any second now he'd get his eyes to open. 

The silence was really buggin' him now. Screwing up his eyes, he pulled various faces before getting the muscles to do what he wanted. Walt's face swam into blurry focus above him. 

"Huh?" 

That was funny. He was dressed already. Couldn't have mornin' sex in your clothes, now could you? Maybe he was... Doggett frowned as his hand patted down his own body. Felt like he was dressed too. What the hell? He squinted and looked over Walt's shoulder. And who the fuck was that? Mulder? Doggett shook his head. What was he doing in Walt's bedroom? 

"Wass Muldah doin' here?" he slurred, his voice echoing through his aching head. Did they tie one on last night? He couldn't remember. 

"I work here," Mulder's voice replied, his mouth seeming to operate in advance of the words. 

Doggett grimaced. "You work in Walt's apartment?" 

Silence. 

"Strangely enough, no." 

Well, this was just nuts. Doggett huffed out a breath. Must be a dream. 

"m'I dreamin'?" 

"Sounds like it." 

"Then go away, Muldah. You don't get to be in my dreams." 

"That's a relief," Mulder's voice told him. A fuckin'smartass even in his sleep. 

Doggett laughed. And the only way you're gonna get Walt is in yours, he chuckled to himself. The sound seemed to echo around inside his head. Not in a good way. 

**"JOHNNY! WAKE UP!!"**

Shit! Jesus Christ! 

Doggett's head shot round to the sound of his sister's shout. 

"WHAT!?" he yelled back, startled. 

Sal was leaning over him, shaking his shoulders hard. He blinked, getting her in focus There were several Sal's floating around. 

"Sal..." Clear the throat. "What the hell?" 

This was just freaky. What was Sal doin' in Walt's bedroom? Surely she hadn't finally talked Walt into... A memory jolted him. Him and Walt. In bed. With a woman. No. He didn't... God, tell me he didn't... Doggett screwed his eyes up and shook his head violently. Shit, that hurt! But it brought the floating images all into sync. He stared at Sal. She was fully dressed. Thank you, God. Doggett sighed and brought a hand up to rub his eyes. Maddi. It had been Maddi, not Sal. 

"Not you... It was Maddi," he told her. "Never guess what I just thought." He laughed in relief. 

"Agent Doggett? Can you hear me? 

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Scully as well? He turned his head and stared into a little light. Not that damned thing again. She'd flashed that in his eyes just a while ago, in Walt's office. No need to do it now.... The thought trailed off miserably, dragging the image of Walt's bedroom with it, leaving a open door in Doggett's mind as it left. And through that door poked an image. One of an office. A lunchtime and a pair of sore balls. Balls that now wanted nothing more than to crawl up inside his body and hide. 

For the second time that morning, Doggett put his head in his hands and groaned. Oh fuck. Horrible. This was just horrible. What had he said? He tried to think, but his brain was sulking. Cowering behind Skinner's sofa, more like. 

"Agent Doggett?" Scully. The woman was fuckin' relentless. Like a stumpy ginger terrier. He smiled behind his hands. Someone took his wrists and pulled. He didn't have the strength to resist, they fell down to his chest. 

"Look at me, John." Damn flashlight. 

"Hurts my eyes," he told her. 'Bout time someone told her that thing was a fuckin' pain. 

"I'm sorry. I know. Look this way." No way. He closed his eyes. 

"John. Open up." He shook his head, working on the principle, if he couldn't see her, then she couldn't see him. 

"John Jay Doggett, do as you're fucking well told!!" 

Obediently, his eyes shot open. "Whaddid you say to me?" he asked his sister, incredulous. 

"You heard." 

He opened his mouth to tell her exactly what he thought of what he'd heard. A small hand yanked his chin round, and he was staring at that light again. He groaned. 

"I'm not happy with this. I want him to see a doctor." 

"Thought you were a doctor," he snipped. 

Scully's hand tightened on his chin. "In the hospital," she said. 

"I agree. Mulder, ask Kim to call the front desk. Get an ambulance here." 

Skinner. Above him. 

Doggett pulled his chin up to look. Upside down Walter. He narrowed his eyes then they widened. He was lying in Skinner's lap. This was not good. Well, actually, it was good. But maybe not in front of Sal, Mulder, Scully and a large portrait of George W. Bush. Damn. 

"No hospital." 

"Yes, hospital," Scully told him, clicking the light off. 

He scrubbed at his eyes. He hated hospitals. 

"I'm fine." 

A hollow laugh rattled out above him, and he craned up to look at Skinner. 

"I don't think 'fine' is quite the word, Agent Doggett." 

Was he mad at him? Doggett couldn't tell from this angle. He tried to bend his neck round to see better. 

"Lie still," Skinner ordered. 

"Can't see you properly." 

Skinner grunted. "You can see me well enough like that." 

"You think he's concussed?" Sal asked. 

"I hope so," Mulder answered. "Otherwise..." He didn't say anything else, and nobody bothered to ask him what he had intended to say. Somewhere, a phone rang. 

Perhaps if he shut his eyes, Doggett could feign sleep and nobody would bother him. Ignoring the flurry of activity out of his line of sight, Doggett let his eyelids slither down. Okay, that was better. Voices rattled around him, he happily ignored them all. It was warm and dark where he was. Dark and safe. 

"Agent Doggett!" Scully with her little hands on his chin again. Shaking him back and forth like a terrier with a rat. 

"Stoppit," he told her, lifting his hand to take her wrist. 

"Then open your eyes, for me." 

"No. Light hurts." 

More shaking. "John. Do as Scully tells you." 

Skinner. Doggett opened his eyes. Smiling, he let go of Scully's hand and reached up. 

"Walt," he said, grinning crazily, trying to pat his cheek. He missed. 

"Woah!" 

Hands were suddenly all over him, grabbing and lifting. 

"What the f..." 

He was placed on a cold hard something, and pinned down. This was not pleasant. 

"No!" he struggled. He hated being tied down. 

"John, it's just the paramedics, don't fight them." 

Uh-uh. No good. Panic scratched at the edges of Doggett's mind. He tried to heave himself up. Straps held him tight. 

"No!" He screwed up his face and heaved with all his strength. He couldn't stand this! 

"John!" 

Sal was calling to him. He couldn't get to her. He struggled against the straps. What was wrong? Who had him tied? He felt a hand lay in the middle of his chest. 

"John. Relax." 

Skinner? 

Doggett frowned. "Walt?" he asked, opening his eyes a crack. 

"It's okay. Take it easy." 

Doggett let himself relax. Damn, but his head hurt. He ran his tongue over his lips. Dry. 

"Drink?" he asked. 

"Maybe later," Scully told him. "Let's go." 

A sudden swoop of vertigo that threatened to produce his lunch and he was flying, past ceiling tiles, light fittings and elevator buttons. If he could just get his eyesight sorted out, he might quite enjoy this. If he could get hold of Walt's hand he could at least feel safe. But he couldn't see him. 

"Walt?" 

His face appeared above him, blocking out the ceiling. 

"I"m here." 

That was okay then. Doggett gave a little smile. Lights out. 

* * *

Chapter 6. 

They always said that the sense of hearing came back first. They were wrong. It was the sense of smell. Antiseptic, polish and puke. Unique fragrances of an inner-city emergency room. Doggett knew it well. It was enough to make him want to crawl back inside his head and sleep. He hated hospitals. Hated them with a vengeance. 

He sighed in his sleep. This time, however, there was another scent in there. Hiding amongst the horrors of the ER. Something fresh and woody. Familiar. Doggett took a deep breath. He knew that smell. Skinner. Hearing rushed back in with the realisation. Beeps, crashing of carts, buzz of machines and telephones. Welcome back Mr. Doggett. Congratulations. It's a bitch of a headache and balls of fire. He groaned. No way. He wasn't coming back for this shit. 

"John?" 

There was a light touch on the back of one hand. Okay, he'd come back for him. Doggett grunted, pushing the grey fog away in his head. 

"How're you feeling?" 

Like two pounds of shit in a one pound bag, thank you for askin'. But he just grunted. 

"We were worried about you." 

We? Doggett forced his eyes open to look. 

Skinner sat next to his bed. He grinned sheepishly. "Okay. I was worried about you." 

That was more like it. Doggett dredged a smile up. God his head ached! 

"Mild concussion, the doctor said. You should be fine." 

Snorting, Doggett lifted his hand to rub his eyes. Mild his ass. Felt like a herd of elephants had use his head for a running-track. And Goddammit, he was still thirsty. 

"Drink?" he croaked. 

"Sure." Skinner got up and poured a cupful of water. He sat on the edge of the bed and slid his hand behind Doggett's head, easing him up. 

Eyes sliding shut at the touch, Doggett sighed. That hand felt wonderfully cool on the back of his heated neck. He took a sip at the beaker, letting the blessed liquid slither down his throat. God, that felt good. Too soon, Skinner pulled the cup away. 

"Enough." Skinner squeezed his neck affectionately. "Don't want you throwing 

it all back up, do we? You can have some more in a while." Raising his eyelids, Doggett gazed at Skinner. He wasn't wearing his glasses. That surprised Doggett - he knew the other man had fuzzy vision, and was loathe to go without them. 

"Where..." He cleared his scratchy throat. "Glasses?" 

A thumb tickled behind his ear. 

"On the cabinet." He watched the big shoulders shrug. "Eyes were tired." 

"Should get to bed earlier," he told him. 

Skinner grinned, the lack of eyewear making him look like a kid, despite the lack of hair. 

"I try. But every time I do, I get myself molested." 

Doggett laughed, the raspy giggle clearing his head. Then hot on the heels of that little exchange, a nasty thought occurred. Were he and Skinner alone, or was there a morbidly interested audience listening to this? Shit, he hoped not. 

He cranked his neck around to scan the room, popping vertebrae, making Skinner wince. 

"God! That's horrible," he said, lowering Doggett's head with a disgusted look on his face. "I could feel that." 

A chuckle bubbled out with relief, seeing the empty room. "Sorry." 

It turned Skinner inside out whenever he did his joint-cracking routine. 

"Where is everybody?" 

"I made Mulder take Scully home, via the canteen. She looked like she was dead on her feet." 

"And Sal?" 

Skinner smiled and wiped Doggett's mouth with the backs of his fingers. "She's out in the parking-lot." 

"What she doin' there?" 

Skinner shrugged. "Phoning your parents, I think." 

"What!" Doggett's shoulders came up off the bed. Jeez, he wasn't five years old! 

Skinner frowned, pushing him back down. "What's the matter?" 

"I'm not a kid!" Shit, his hands came up to hold on to his head. He really mustn't raise his voice like that. 

"No-one said you were." Skinner rolled his eyes. "She's just telling them she'll be late getting back. I think your father was supposed to be taking her back to her apartment from the airport, or something." 

"Oh." He let his body flop back. 

"Mr. Over-Sensitive." 

Grunting, Doggett rubbed his temple, eyes closed. "Yeah, well, you wanna try having parents like mine," he grumbled. "Flyin' into a panic over every scrape and bruise -Jeez, my mother could fuss for the state. 'Ain't no picnic, I can tell you. She'd be movin' in with me, if I told her half the stuff that goes down." He gave a snort of derision. "I'm a grown man, for Chrisskes!" And then he remembered. He opened his eyes. Shit. 

"Sorry, man," he muttered, appalled at his thoughtlessness. 

Skinner shrugged. "S'okay." 

Suppose folks that fussed was better than folks ripped up in a car-wreck. He felt like a shit for forgetting. He lay studying the ceiling for a moment, wondering if he'd just hurt the other man. 

"So." Skinner cleared his throat. "Looks like you're on bed-rest 'til tomorrow." 

Doggett turned to look at the sudden change of subject. Yep. He had. Reaching out his hand, he felt around on the bedclothes, and finding what he was searching for, threaded his fingers round a big hand. 

Skinner looked down. "What's this?" 

Doggett gave him a squeeze. "I'm sorry, Walt." 

"I told you, it's okay." 

"No it's not." 

"Forget it." Skinner shook his head. "I'm over it now." 

That was a lie. He'd seen the florist's mandate, the photographs scattered on the study desk. Was he over it? Do chickens have lips? Doggett wondered if he should say anything else. The moment passed as the door banged open, their hands leaping guiltily apart. 

"Dammit! You'd think I'd cut off your arms and legs with a chain-saw myself, the way that woman fusses!" Sal threw herself down into Skinner's chair. 

"She was booking the plane tickets to DC in her head, while I talked." 

"She's not?" Doggett felt a twinge of panic. 

"No, Mama's boy - she's not." Sal laughed, pointing. "You owe me for that. She was all ready to sit at your bedside and give you tepid sponge-baths." 

Doggett winced. She would, too. 

"Hey, Walt," Sal put her feet up on the edge of the bed. "Go ahead and hold his hand again, if you want. Don't mind me." 

Doggett exchanged a look with the other man. The fact his sister had seen him with his sleeping lover draped over him was one thing, her sitting there while they held hands like prom dates was entirely another. Arms folded belligerently across his chest. 

"Chicken-shit." 

"Just mindin' my business," Doggett snapped. "Don't know who's lookin' at who." 

"Hey! No-one here but us chickens," Sal laughed. 

"Bwark-bwark," Skinner added, winking. 

They both seemed to be missing the point, big time. The thought of Scully and her lanky familiar walking in on them was making his ears curl, even if the other two didn't seem to be getting the picture.. Sal laughed, stretching in the chair. 

"You know, Johnny, I thought that Muldah guy was gonna shit a brick when you kissed Walt's hand." 

Doggett groaned, unfolding himself. "Noooo. Tell me I didn't." He lifted a hand and pinched his nose. "Oh God. I thought I dreamed that." 

Sal chuckled. "Fraid you did, Big Dog. And then some." She picked some fluff off her blouse. "They didn't know, did they?" 

Skinner and Doggett exchanged a glance. "No. They most definately do not know," Skinner said firmly. 

"News flash, guys: they do now." 

Doggett looked over to her. "I was concussed." 

Sal's eyebrow shot up. "You gotta be kiddin' me!" She tutted. "Neither of them are that stupid." 

Doggett glared. "Meaning?" 

Sal shrugged. "Heard them talking. Arguing, actually..." She cocked her head on one side. "Are they, you know... Doin' one another? 'Cause they argue enough to be." 

"Sarah!" Doggett pulled a face. God, she had a mind like a sewer. 

Skinner shifted a little in his seat. "I've never asked. And I don't think I want to know." 

"Who's the baby's father then?" 

Both men looked at one another. "Mulder's." Skinner said, finally. 

"So he is doin' her?" 

Doggett clicked his free fingers, impatiently. "Can we forget about Scully's baby for one freakin' minute? Go back to what you said before." 

"About?" 

Doggett rolled his eyes. "About them arguing." 

"Oh yeah. Well... the two of them were having this huge scene in the corridor, about whether or not you and Walter were doin' the nasty." 

Shit. Doggett looked down and shut his eyes. Shit-shit-shit. 

* * *

Chapter 7 

The beeps and clicks of the hospital chased around the room for a few minutes, while the three people in the room sat and thought about what Sal had said. And dollars to donuts what Sal had on her mind wasn't anywhere near what Skinner and he had on theirs. Not by the look on her face. Doggett dragged his eyes from the smirk on his sister's face over to where Skinner was sitting, rigid on the edge of his bed. The other man was nursing a distinctly constipated expression. 

"Shit," Doggett whispered. 

Skinner nodded. 

"Oh, come on, guys!" Sal pulled her legs off the bed and sat up. "Put things into perspective." She held up her fingers. "They can say what the hell they like, but hey! One: There's no proof... Two: Who cares?... And three: So what?" 

She shrugged. 

"For Chrissake, you're both so far over the age of consent its almost a joke." 

Both men glared. 

"Get real, gentlemen. They can argue all they like and Muldah can paint all the lurid pictures he wants, but I get the impression that Dana wants Polaroids before she'll believe it." 

She gave a sudden bark of laughter. "Y'know what? If you want, I'd be willin' to..." 

"No!" Doggett unfolded his arms, wondering if he could reach over far enough to clip her round the ear for even thinking that. Pervert. 

She gave him a huge wink, and a grin to match. 

"It may not be so bad," Skinner said at last, breaking up the staring match. "Scully will bring him round." 

Doggett peered at the man on the edge of bed. Who was he tryin' to kid? Besides, the very idea of Skinner bein' that way inclined was enough to bring the rogue agent out in hives of excitement. 

"Walter... The only person Fox Muldah wants to bring him round, is you." 

Skinner looked at him. "What do you mean?" 

Smiling grimly, Doggett poked at his sore eye for a moment, wondering how to break this to the big guy. 

"Well. He's kinda got..." 

A crush? The hots? How best to put it? 

"He's got this thing." 

"Thing?" Skinner was utterly blank. 

Doggett sighed. His eye hurt. His head hurt, and he didn't even want to think about his nuts. He decided he wasn't in any mood to pussy-foot about around the issue. 

"He has a thing about you, Walt. A great big, fantasy-shaped thing. Get the idea?" 

Doggett watched Skinner's mouth fall open to the sound of his sister's mirth. 

"Oh, shit! This is just perfect! An FBI love-triangle!" Shake of a bald head. "No." 

"Fraid so, big guy. Major hots." 

Skinner looked horrified. "Mulder?" 

Doggett nodded. 

Skinner's face contorted. "God..." 

Sal rocked back in her chair. "You don't look impressed, Walt." 

He glanced at her. "Never crossed my mind about him." 

"Well you've crossed his, plenty." 

Skinner didn't look pleased with this revelation. "He told you this?" he asked, looking even more constipated. 

Doggett shook his head. "Didn't have to. It's written all over him. Every glance at you, every comment. Surprised you never noticed." He grinned, unable to resist yanking a little. "Some investigator you are." 

"Fuck you." 

"Don' think it's me he wants to fuck." 

Skinner winced. "You're absolutely sure?" 

Doggett nodded. 

Sal pointed. "Takes one to know one," she said. 

"One what?" If she called him a faggot, he was gonna get out of this bed and kick her ass, aching balls and little sister not withstanding. 

She winked. "Skinner-lover." 

The two men looked at her. She stared back. Nothing was said for the longest time. 

"What?!" she cried at last, throwing her hands up. 

A slow grin spread over Skinner's face. "I like that," he said, nodding. He turned to Doggett. "Got a nice ring to it, don't you think?" 

"You're nuts, you know that?" Doggett told him, shaking his head. 

"Probably." 

"Definately." 

Skinner leaned over. "Must be nuts, to hang out with you, you skinny..." 

Doggett sighed. "Yeah, yeah... skinny-assed sack of shit. I know." 

"You two have a real funny way of showing affection, y'know that?" 

Skinner shrugged. "That's guys, for you." 

Sal snorted. "'Nuff to make a girl turn queer." 

Doggett pulled a face. Didn't need that in his head. "So what are we gonna do?" he asked Skinner, unconsciously deferring to the older man. 

"Do?" 

"About Muldah." 

Skinner shrugged again. "Nothing." 

"Nothin'?" 

"Like she said - he has no proof." He shook his head and corrected himself. "They have no proof. And anyway..." 

"But..." 

"I just...." Skinner got up from the bed and walked over to his glasses. He unfolded them and sighed. "I don't... I mean, it's just too wild." He shoved the spectacles on his nose. 

"I'm sorry, but I think you're wrong. Mulder may be strange, but I don't think for a second that he harbours any romantic feelings towards me. It's just too 'out there'." 

A pair of large arms folded over a large chest. "We do nothing. Ignore the issue. Act like nothing is going on. I think that'll be enough." 

Doggett stared at the other man. He couldn't be serious? Did he think for one s econd that Fox Mulder would be able to refrain from digging around until he either got at the truth or made someone bleed? Jesus! He was a huge and outstanding pain in the butt, but he was also the most tenacious son-of-a-bitch Doggett had ever come across. There was no way Mulder would let this one go. 

"You're nuts," he told Skinner. 

"Pardon me?" 

"Muldah. He won't quit 'til he knows for sure." 

"Why?" 

Doggett rolled his eyes, despite it making his headache worse. "Hello? Did I not just make myself clear?" He sighed wondering how someone so sexy could be so obtuse about his own sex appeal. 

"The mere fact that there's the slightest possibility of him being able to entertain the thought of you in a sexual relationship with another man, will be enough to send him running for the hand-cream and the Kleenex." 

"Ewww!" Sal wrinkled up her nose. 

"John..." Skinner pulled a similar face. 

"Hey! I'm just sayin'" 

"Well I don't think I need to hear it put quite so... Graphically, thank you." 

Doggett grunted. Say it like it is, that was his motto. Up front and honest. Always had been, always would be. Deep inside his head, a nasty little thought stabbed him. Honest in all things, except all things concerning his relationship with Skinner. He shifted slightly under the scratchy hospital covers. Shit. That admission made him squirm. He'd always prided himself on being as honest a man as he could. With himself and others. He stared at Walt standing at the end of his bed. Could he really imagine spending the rest of his life hiding his relationship with this man? Concealing the fact that he loved him, simply to make things tidy. More convenient? He frowned. That didn't sound very appealing. Deception wasn't a John Doggett kind of thing, by nature. But then again, until that summer, he hadn't thought Walter Skinner was a very John Doggett thing, either. What was the FBI policy on same-gender relationships? Could there really be any cause for concern in this enlightened day and age? He imagined Kersh's face at the news. Yeah, right. Cause for concern would be the DD haemorrhaging all over his office carpet. A grim smile ghosted across Doggett's lips. Almost be worth mincing hand in hand into that bastard's office to see that. 

Skinner squinted at him. "What's so funny?" 

Doggett shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinkin'" 

"About?" 

"Kersh." 

Skinner grimaced. "Kersh? Kleenex? I think you need a CT scan, John. That blow to the head must have dislodged something." 

Sal blew a raspberry. "Nothin' in there to dislodge." 

Against his better manners, Doggett held up a middle finger. He figured he was entitled, what with bein' helpless in bed, an' all. 

"Charming." Sal sat up and grabbed the digit. "This the thanks I get for holding off the Decent of Mama?" 

"Yep." 

"Well, I might just get on the phone and tell her a few home-truths about her baby boy." 

"You wouldn't?" 

Sal grinned. "You think?" 

"Sal... I have a gun." 

She waggled the finger back and forth. "I have a cel phone." 

"You wouldn't?" It was becoming more of a whine. 

"Are you sure? Might be worth it to see the Golden Boy fall." Doggett scowled at her. "I'll have you arrested." 

"Yeah, charged with what? Closet-opening?" 

Ouch. That was below the belt. 

"Low-blow, Sal." 

"Learned from the best, Johnny." 

"Meaning?" 

"You were the King of Tease, remember?" 

He shook his head. "No." 

"That's 'cause you're old and senile." 

"Young enough to kick your ass." 

"Too old, too slow, baby." 

"I'll sic Walt on you." 

Sal's face lit up. "Ooh! It's a deal." 

Pulling his finger free, Doggett sighed. "I didn't mean it like that." 

Perching a butt cheek on the edge of the bed, Sal laughed and poked him in the ribs. 

"Relax, Big Dog. I wouldn't do that. Even to you." 

He grunted, regarding her sceptically. He wasn't so sure. The whole thing must be amazingly tempting for her. 

"I'm gonna leave it to you to break the happy news to the wide world." 

She leaned over and mussed his hair. "But promise me one thing?" 

"What?" 

"You'll let me help you pick out your wedding gown?" 

Grabbing his wrists as he tried to slap at her, Sal pulled his arms out to the sides, rendering him helpless. Head bent, she snuffled at Doggett's neck, making him yell, tickling unmercifully. 

"Stop!" he gasped laughing, heaving her away. 

"Baby!" she told him, wiping her mouth dry. 

"Sadist." He smiled, running his hand over his wet neck. 

Pushing her away stole the last of his strength, and a wide yawn crept up behind his good manners, making his jaw creak 

"You should get some rest," Skinner told him, moving round the side of the bed. 

"I'm..." 

"Fine." The other two spoke together. "Yes, we know." 

Doggett sighed. He was outnumbered, and he knew it. He waved a hand. 

"Go. Take her away." He looked at Skinner. "My house keys are in my jacket..." shit. Back at the Bureau. 

Skinner nodded. "In your office. Don't worry.." He glanced at Sal. "I have a spare." 

"Fancy that," she said, smiling. 

"You can pick up your stuff from John's place, I'll be happy to take you to the airport..." 

"There's no need, Walt, I can get a taxi." 

Skinner shook his head. "I wouldn't hear of it. Be my pleasure." 

"What a lovely thoughtful brother-in-law," Sal teased, winking at Skinner, who just smiled back, not rising to her bait. 

"You behave yourself, Miss," Doggett growled, not liking the idea of Sal in Skinner's car all the way to the airport, one little bit. 

"That an order, Agent Doggett?" she asked. 

"You bet." 

Smiling, she bent and kissed the uninjured side of his face. "Okay then. I'll be a good girl." 

He doubted that. But on the other hand, he did trust Skinner. "Yeah." 

He kissed her back, brushing her face with his fingers, wondering when he would see her again. Two years was too long, he decided. 

"Safe journey." 

She nodded, holding the hand. "Sure. I'll call to let Walt know when I get in." 

Doggett smiled, liking her automatic assumption that Skinner would be seeing him tomorrow. 

"You come back and see me real soon, y'hear?" he told her. 

Laughing, Sal did that annoying ruffle-thing with his hair, but he let it go. She could be as annoying as hell, but in the context of her acceptance of his new 'life-choice', he'd let her mess his hair up if she wanted. 

"Sure, Big Dog. It's been a blast." She moved away, glancing over at Skinner, and grinned. "But maybe you and Walt could come visit me. Get away from the big city -relax in the good 'ol country." 

Doggett winced. He could just imagine his sister introducing him and Walt to her friends, and he didn't want to imagine introducing Walt to his parents. 

"Maybe," he told her, doubtfully. 

"We'd love to," Skinner interrupted, nodding, a pleased look on his face. 

Doggett glanced over. He and Mr. Skinner were going to have to have a little chat about communication skills, real soon. 

"Good." She took her jacket from the chair. "You take care, Johnny. No more dancin' with Agent Muldah, now. Y'hear?" 

"Funny." 

Moving silently, Skinner's hand was suddenly on his shoulder. 

"Don't worry, Sal. I'll take good care of him." 

Doggett looked up at the other man, a smile playing on his lips.He was pleasantly surprised to find he didn't feel any embarrassment as Skinner bent to briefly kiss his lips. Suppose that after yesterday's demonstration in the kitchen, this was nothing. 

Skinner straightened, allowing his hand to brush over Doggett's cheek, just for a second. 

"I'll be by tomorrow. Bring you some fresh clothes." 

"Thanks." Doggett yawned again, making Skinner smile. 

"Get some rest, you hear?" 

"Yes, boss." 

From the doorway, Sal waved. "Bye Johnny. Love you." 

Doggett raised a hand. "Back atcha, Babe." 

And then they were gone, leaving Doggett with the remains of a headache, a smile on his face and very messy hair. 

* * *

Chapter 8 

Lying on his side, the edge of the medicated pillow tickling his nose, Doggett tried to put his finger on what it was that had woken him. There didn't seem to be any more noise coming from outside the room than usual, nor was it morning. The very brief test-slit opening of his eyelids confirmed that the room was still dark - so what could it be? 

Not moving, he ran a quick check on his body. Head: a dull throb that two aspirin had tried to chase away before he retired, and nuts: tender but tolerable. So it wasn't pain that had wafted into his head to wake him. And yet... The short hairs on the back of his neck were rarely wrong, and right now, they were standing to parade-ground attention, screaming at him that something most definitely, was not right. There was someone else in the room. 

He'd bet his bruised left nut on it. Someone was sitting silently in the chair by the wall, not moving in the darkness. Doggett felt horribly vulnerable lying there being watched, his back exposed in one of those godawful hospital gowns, with absolutely no idea where his weapon was, but damn sure it wasn't anyplace within easy reach. Shit! Who was it? He feigned sleep, trying to keep his breathing steady and rhythmic, resisting the urge to jump up and scream. 

Sal and Skinner had left hours ago. Scully had been dragged home by Mulder even earlier. So who was in the room with him? With his back to the room, he couldn't say for sure where the person was sitting, but the hairs on his neck insisted that wherever the mystery visitor was sitting, they were staring at his back. His naked, exposed back. All the way down to his ass. 

Never much dignity in the arena of medicine, so why the hell patients weren't allowed underwear, he would never figure out, but with his usual response to the over-heated rooms in hospitals, and a good dose of shitty karma, he knew he had shoved the covers down. It took all of his self-restraint not to claw the coverlet up to his chin. 

Goddamn! Lying with his ass hanging out was no way to deal with an intruder. Doggett pulled in a deep breath. Dammit to hell! He flared his nostrils. There it was. The merest hint of something familiar. Not Skinner. He knew that scent, even in his sleep. The smell of that man wouldn't have disturbed his sleep. This was someone else. 

He ran the hint of cologne through his memory, trying to isolate the source. Where did he recognise that smell from? He panicked slightly as the thought of Giles Banner slithered unwelcome into his mind and instantly ridiculed himself for the very idea. No. not him. He was locked away someplace very unfriendly. It wasn't Banner. 

Breathing in the warm dry hospital air, the pieces of the scented puzzle clicked into place in his head. He gritted his teeth, determined not to betray his embarrassment by pulling the sheet up over his rear-end. Without moving or even lifting his head, Doggett spoke quietly. 

"What can I do for you, Agent Muldah?" 

There was a shuffle and a little sigh from across the room. 

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." 

Doggett grunted. "Yeah?" 

"Really." There was the sound of someone shuffling about. "I was just..." 

"Just what?" 

Doggett pulled his head out of the pillow and craned around to frown at the other man. It was probably too dark for the scowl to have much effect, but it made him feel better. Mulder was busy unpretzling his legs from the red chair in the corner. How the hell could anyone sit like that? 

"I just..." Mulder stood and stepped forward, then hesitated. 

It was too dark for the other man to see the blush that was colouring his face, that was one small mercy, Doggett thought. Turning over on to his back and pulling the sheet up to his waist, he fussed with the material, folding it over and smoothing it out. He looked up to see Mulder lurking at the foot of his bed. God! What the fuck was he staring at? Doggett clicked his fingers impatiently. 

"C'mon, c'mon. spit it out man." 

Jesus! Sometimes he wondered what he'd done to deserve Mulder. 

"Um... I was just, you know..." 

Doggett rolled his eyes. "No, Agent Muldah, I don't know. All I know is you're standing in my hospital room at..." He looked around for a clock, but couldn't see one. 

"God knows whatever time it is.." 

"It's twenty past five," Mulder offered helpfully. 

"Jesus wept!" He reached to pinch his eyes. He must have been a very bad individual in a past life. 

"Are you trying to kill me, Muldah? I almost had a heart-attack, waking with someone in my room." 

"Sorry." 

"Yeah, so you said." He glared. "You're sitting in the dark, Muldah." 

"That's because it's twenty past..." 

"I know what the freakin' time is! That's the goddamn point!" Giving in, Doggett put his hands over his bruised face and groaned. 

He heard Mulder creeping towards the bed. "Are you okay, Doggett? Want me to call a nurse? A doctor?" 

"NO!" It felt good to yell. "Don't want a fuckin' nurse. I don't want a fuckin' doctor! I just want to know why you're sitting staring at me while I sleep!" 

Mulder stood and blinked at him, apparently struck dumb by the outburst. Pulling in a deep calming breath, Doggett unclenched his fists and deliberately smoothed his hands on the sheet. Shouting was all well and good, but it had woken up his headache. 

"So." He shut his eyes for a long moment. "I'm gonna ask again." Opening up, he saw Mulder hadn't moved. "What are you doin' here?" 

"Nothing." 

"Muldah..." 

"No. I mean I wasn't going to do anything..." Holding his hands out peaceably, 

Mulder stepped closer. 

"Glad to hear it," Doggett muttered, pulling at the top of his sheet. 

"I dropped Scully at home, we ate pizza..." 

"How nice." Dry, just this side of sarcastic. 

"Then I just... you know. Fell asleep." Mulder wriggled at little, as if embarrassed at the admission. "Anyway - when I woke up, it was too late to phone anyone to ask how you were. So I just came down." 

"In the middle of the night." 

Mulder shrugged. "I don't sleep very well." 

"Me either." 

"Sorry." He pulled a face. "I didn't plan on waking you." 

Doggett grunted again. "Just thought you'd sit and stare at my bare ass, instead." 

"Works for me." The grin on his face raised the hackles on Doggett's neck. 

"That's what you might call 'kinky', Agent Muldah," he growled. 

Mulder scratched his head and sat, uninvited on the edge of the bed. "Well, when you put it like that..." 

"How else d'you wanna put it?" 

Mulder shrugged. "Concern." 

"What?" Doggett shook his throbbing head, incredulous. 

"I was worried. Felt guilty, I suppose." 

Snorting was the only response Doggett was in the mood to give to that revelation. 

"So I thought I'd come see how you were." 

"I was asleep, thank you very much for askin'." 

"Yeah, sorry about that." 

Doggett sighed. It was too early for this shit. He rubbed at his eyes again, trying not to pull the sore skin over his cheekbone. Someone make him go away. 

"I'm fine, Agent Muldah. A little battered and bruised, but fine." 

"Uh-huh." 

"I could use some more sleep, though." Major hint, Mulder. Go away. 

Mulder nodded. "Probably," he agreed, not moving. 

God! Thick-skinned or just outstandingly obtuse? Doggett stared. 

"So..." He waved a hand. 

Mulder just smiled. Unbelievable. 

"I'm goin' to close my eyes now, Muldah. I like for you not to be there when I open them again." 

"Okay." 

Doggett sighed and shut his eyes. He must have been a fuckin' serial-killer in a past life, never mind just 'bad'. No movement from the end of the bed. Doggett lay, with his eyes shut, trying not to feel Mulder's gaze burning through his eyelids. He counted to one hundred very slowly, figuring that the other man was gonna get the hint any second. 

"You're still there, aren't you, Muldah?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Why is that?" 

"I'm making sure you fall alseep okay." 

"I think I can manage that, now I'm a big boy." 

The snort that followed that comment was enough to make his face screw up. 

"You know what I mean." 

"I sure do." 

"Muldah..." The low growl in the back of his throat. 

"Don't panic, I only got to see your ass." 

Mortification washed over Doggett, raising the temperature under the thin cover. 

"It was really too dark to see that, properly, either." 

"Jesus, Muldah! Gimme a break!" 

"Okay." 

The chuff of Mulder's amusement drifted away. Doggett tried counting again. He got to thirty seven, before unease interrupted. 

"Okay, Mulder. You can leave me, now. I'm not going to have a seizure. Or fall out of bed. I'm just going to go to sleep, okay?" 

"Okay." 

Eyes flicking back and forth under their lids, Doggett ground his teeth together. He could see how Skinner had got into that bad habit, dealing with Fox Mulder. 

"You're still there, aren't you, Muldah?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"And that would be because?" 

"I'm not making any noise," Mulder offered, defensive. 

Doggett's eyes snapped open. "That's not really the issue, is it?" 

"No?" He seemed genuinely surprised. 

"No." Doggett waited for the penny to drop. Then waited some more. Gradually he realised that Mulder didn't have a slot for a penny to drop into. He groaned, shaking his head carefully. "I can't do this." 

"What?" 

"Sleep, with you starin' at me." 

"How come?" Again, genuine surprise. This man must be wired up on a whole different system to the rest of the world, Doggett thought. 

He sighed again. "Makes me very uncomfortable." 

"Oh." 

Jesus! How was it that Mulder got to look wounded? With that pouty face of his... Dammit! He was the one lying vulnerable helpless, naked under a very thin sheet. That thought unfurled bare-assed and embarrassed, in Doggett's belly. 

"You think you could..." Doggett waved his hand at the door. Mulder just stared at him. 

"You want me to get something?" 

"I want you to get out."That pouty face again. Doggett hardened his heart. It wasn't difficult. 

"Now," he ordered. 

"Oh." Mulder sighed. "And I thought we were turning over a new leaf in our relationship." 

Doggett stared. Relationship? New leaf? What was he on? "What the hell are you talkin' about?" 

Mulder waved a hand. "You and me. Getting along." 

Doggett shook his head, wondering if this was just one of those freaky dreams. He'd be standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial any second now, wearing his mother's Sunday best. 

"We are gettin' along, Muldah. But I'd get along with you a whole lot better if you'd leave me alone to get some sleep. Okay?" 

"Oh." 

Biting back the urge to scream at the other man to get the fuck out of his airspace, Doggett made do with another Mulder-induced sigh. 

"Look, Muldah. I appreciate you bein' concerned about me and all..." He looked up, trying arrange his face in a 'sincere' expression. 

"I get it." 

"No, I don't think..." 

"This is because I made all those jokes about you and Skinner, isn't it?" 

The world blurred into a dirty grey colour again, taking Doggett's stomach and balling it up into his throat. 

"What d'you mean?" he whispered. 

Mulder rolled his eyes. "You know. The Banner thing. The undercover." He blew air out between his lips. "I thought we'd got past that." 

Okay. It was safe. Relief unfolded Doggett's stomach, patting it gently back into place. 

"Oh," he said. Then he shook his head. "No. It's nothin' to do with that. I just can't sleep with someone watching me, is all." 

Mulder didn't look convinced. 

"Honest." 

"Yeah?" 

"Sure." Doggett nodded. He held out a hand. "Thanks for the concern, Fox." 

The use of his given name narrowed Milder's eyes, but he made no comment, just took Doggett's hand. 

"You're sure I can't get you anything?" 

"Uh-uh. I'm good." 

"You want me to pick you up some clean underwear?" 

"Nah. Walt's doin' that for me..." 

Oh shit, shit, shit. The throb in his cheek flared into an out and out stab, and his hand contracted in Mulder's just a fraction. He'd called him Walt. Glancing up, Doggett wondered if he'd noticed the slip. Mulder sat perched on the bed, his free hand folded neatly in his lap. There was no expressin on his face, but somehow, that didn't reassure Doggett one bit. Joined at the hand, Doggett's racing imagination fancied that all the images in his head were tearing along his arm to bleed from his fingers into Mulder's, and then racing gleefully into his head. Shit. He pulled his hand back, panicking. 

"I... um..." The gift of language was on lay-away at the moment. He stared right back at into Mulder's hazel eyes, wondering if this was the moment when the shit was going to hit the fan. It seemed too small a slip for this to be it. Somehow he'd always imagined that it'd take more than one word. 

"Okay." Mulder shrugged and stood up. That was it? Doggett stared, his mouth falling open. 

"I'll tell Scully you'll be out tomorrow. She was worried, too." 

"Uh-huh." Words still on a shelf in the despatch-room, Doggett couldn't think of anything sensible to say. 

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Mulder turned away. 

Doggett watched as he reached the door, pulling a hand out from his pocket to heave it open. There should be things he had to say to the other man. Had to be. 

Mulder glanced over his shoulder. 

"Glad you're okay. You should take the day off tomorrow. Take it easy." 

Doggett nodded, dumbly. 

"After a head injury, you're supposed to rest." 

Nodding again, Doggett put his will-power down as a payment on whispered speech. 

"Sure. I think I will. Thanks Muldah." 

Mulder stepped out into the corridor, then as if recalling something, turned back into the room. There was enough light from the corridor for Doggett to see the wicked grin on the other's face. 

"One more thing, Agent Doggett..." 

If he were any less shell-shocked, Doggett might have been uneasy at the sight. As it was, he just lay there, waiting as unsuspecting as a deaf wildebeest. 

"Uh-huh?" 

Mulder winked and laughed. "Great ass." 

The door hissed shut on Doggett's furious blush. 

* * *

Chapter 9. 

There was a drawback to being a naturally tidy person, honed to near anal-neatness by the military. It meant that an unexpected day-off was filled with a huge chunk of 'nothing to do'. His place was clean, tidy and ordered. Trash emptied, dishes washed and yard swept. He'd sorted his CD's into alphabetical order a month ago, and he was damned if he was going to be reduced to sitting on the floor, categorising them into genre. It was a close thing, but there were limits. Doggett glanced over at the rack again. Shit. 

No. He couldn't do it. Sighing, he pushed himself up off the sofa and stomped into the kitchen wearing the black mood that had been draped all over him since Skinner left for work this morning. Nice enough being brought home by the other man, petted and pampered behind closed doors. Fussed over and kissed. But duty called, and he'd had to go to into the office - a sick day to look after a subordinate would be nice, but not wise. He understood Skinner's reasons, but still, it grated. 

He pulled open the fridge and fished around for a soda. He couldn't go running. Doctor's orders. He couldn't go biking. Doctor's orders. He couldn't go into work. Skinner's orders. 

Damn it, he was so fuckin' bored! Daytime TV was an insult to anyone with two brain cells to rub together, and he'd finished his new Stephen King last Thursday. Shit! Stomping back into the lounge, Doggett just stopped himself from throwing his body onto the sofa. Uh-uh. Not a great idea. It'd be a while before he'd feel like bouncing his balls on the furniture, thank you Agent Mulder. Come to think of it - he'd not be putting his ass in the saddle of his beloved bike any time soon, either. 

Great. He frowned, sipping his drink. God really fucked up with the design of the male body. The ringing of the phone interrupted his misery. Smiling, he reached over. That'd be Skinner, checking up on him. 

"Yeah?" 

"How are you feeling, Agent Doggett?" 

He grinned. Oh yeah. Settling back, he put his feet on the table. 

"Oh, a little sore, but not so bad, thank you, sir." They couldn't do phone sex on a Bureau line, but it was great to hear the other man's voice, all the same. 

"Glad to hear it, Agent Doggett." 

"Thank you for your concern, sir." They had become masters of superficial conversation. 

"I need you in perfect health, Agent." 

"I understand, sir." Did he ever! There had been promises made in the car on the way home, promises that involved his balls and a very gentle mouth. 

"Good. See that you get the proper rest." 

"I will." In bed between your thighs, sir. 

He knew Skinner would be filling in the blanks, just like he did. 

"So you'll be in the office tomorrow?" 

"Plan on it, sir. Sooner the better." 

"I like to hear my Agents are keen." 

"Yessir." Grinning like a loon, Doggett chugged back a mouthful of soda. 

"Goodbye, Agent Doggett." 

"Bye, Assistant Director." 

Hanging up, Doggett chuckled to imagine any wire-tappers getting hot over that conversation, but it'd warmed him up and alleviated his foul mood. It felt good that someone cared about him enough to check he was okay. Maybe he could slip a video in. That'd get rid of a coupla hours. He rolled off the sofa and knee-walked over to the bookshelf. Walt had lent him the Lonesome Dove boxed set, and he'd not gotten around watching it yet. Yep. That'd take care of most of the afternoon. The phone rang again. 

"Yeah?" Surely not Walt again. 

"Hi, baby." 

Doggett put his hand to his eyes. 

"Oh, hi, Mama." 

"How you feelin' son? Sally told me everything." 

Shit, he hoped not. He pulled a face. 

"I'm fine, Ma." 

"You always say that." 

"That's 'cause I am." This was an argument he knew he wasn't gonna win, but he went for it anyway. 

"Don't snip at me, John." 

"I didn't, Ma." He squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I'm not." 

There was a snort down the line. 

"Ma. Sal probably exaggerated. You know how she gets." 

"She told me you had a fall." 

Close. "Yeah. Kinda knocked my cheek a bit, but I'm okay." 

"Concussion, she said." 

He was gonna kick Sal's ass when he saw her again. "Nah. Not really. Just kept me in as a precaution, is all." 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah. I'm fine." 

"You wouldn't be lyin' to me, would you, son?" 

"No, Ma." 

"John Jay..." There it was. That warning growl he'd deluded himself into thinking he'd invented. 

He sighed. "Ma... I told you..." 

"Sal said you'd been hurt someplace else, too." 

Oh, he was definitely gonna kill her. 

"Oh." 

"Yes. 'Oh'." There was a long silence neither of them wanting to be the first to speak. 

Doggett cracked. "It was nothin'," he lied. 

"Getting kicked 'down there' isn't nothin', Johnny. You should know that." 

Doggett's skin crawled with embarrassment. He still hadn't gotten over that incident in the back yard. 

"The doctor checked it out, Ma. I'm fine." That phrase was getting a real work-out the last coupla days. 

"And your... You know, are okay?" 

He winced. "Yeah. Fine." Bruised and a cool shade of purple, but essentially fine. 

"That's good." 

There was a crazy moment when he imagined the woman was going to enquire about the chances of him siring another grandchild. The feeling passed when he heard her laugh. 

"Gotta take care of the cajones, Johnny." 

Oh, God... Jesus! This was his mother! 

"Ma..." 

"Oh, don't be such a ninny! You think I don't know what they're called?" 

Doggett's face twisted. 

"And you think that at my age I've not seen my fair share..." 

"God... MA!" 

This was too much. He didn't need a discussion about testicles, his or not, with his mother. 

"Well. It's important, John. They're important." 

Cringe. 

"I guess." Please can we change the subject? "Is Daddy keepin' well?" 

"Oh, he's just fine. That new hip's just the job. He walked to all the way to your uncle Benny's farm the other day." 

"Yeah? That's a fair step." 

"I'll say." 

Silence fell. He wondered what was going through that mind. There was absolutely nothing going through his. 

"Sal reckons you've made some nice friends out there." 

Great. Now there was far too much going through it. 

"Yeah. They're a good bunch of folks." 

God, he hated how she always made him revert to sounding like a hick. 

"So she said." 

Doggett swallowed, throat dry despite the soda. 

"Uh-huh." Keep it neutral. She did promise she wouldn't say anything. 

"Took kind of a shine to one fella, I reckon." 

"Y'think?" Sal and me both, he thought. 

"Had a light in her eye when she talked about him. Is he a nice fella?" 

Shit. Nicer than you could ever imagine, Ma. The insane urge to tell her all about Walter Skinner raged through his head. He swallowed, biting down on that train of thought. 

"They're all nice enough, I reckon." 

He wanted to tell her. God he wanted to be honest with her. Wanted to tell her he'd found a wonderful person that he loved, and loved him in return. Wasn't that what every mother wanted for their kids? Maybe so, sanity told him, but she probably didn't want to hear it over the phone, half a country away. He should steer the subject somewhere safer, before he lost control. 

"Maybe I should call her - tease her a 'lil bit..." 

"Don't you dare, John Jay. You leave her be. 'Bout time she settled down." 

He smiled to himself. Now she would go off a way on how Sal should be havin' babies and stuff. He chugged a swig of pop. That was a lot safer topic of conversation than him coming out of any damned closet. 

"You courtin' anyone, Johnny?" 

The soda ran up the back of his throat into his nose. Coughing, bleary-eyed with Dr.Pepper-burn, he wiped his dripping face on his arm. Shit. 

"Well? Are you? It's been plenty long enough now." 

"Ma... I don't think..." 

"Oh, shoot, Johnny! You're a good enough lookin' man." God! She was relentless. 

"I work long hours, Ma." He ran his hand over the wet patch on his jeans. 

They'd need soaking to get this stuff out. 

"You need to move on, John. Get over her." 

God! Had he ever gotten over her. 

"So are you datin'?" 

Oh, yeah, Mom. He's about 6'2", has an ass you could bounce pennies off and gives terrific head. He winced. This was definitely not the time. Her heart wouldn't stand it. 

"I gotta go, Ma. There's someone at the door." 

A lie. But he'd live with that. Better than giving his mother a coronary, long-distance. 

"I didn't hear the bell." 

Busted. Psychic old bat. 

"It's broken. I can hear 'em knockin'." This was ridiculous. He was too fuckin' old to be telling fibs to his mother. 

"Well, okay then." 

Was that reproach in her voice? Or was it just his guilty conscience he could hear? 

"Look after yourself, son. I worry about you, so far away." Reproach. 

"I know. I will." 

"I love you." 

Definitely guilty conscience. 

"You take care, Ma. I love you too. And give my love to Daddy, y'hear?" 

He was getting off lightly, with a little help from Mr. Fib. 

"I will. Now you will come see us soon, won't you?" 

Maybe not so lightly. 

"I'll try. It's tough, with work, y'know." 

Gentle sigh. "I understand." 

Shit. Stab straight through his guts. God, she was good. 

"Gotta go. Love ya." 

"Bye, Johnny. Big kiss." 

He put the phone in the cradle by touch alone, his eyes shut against the accusingly silent doorway. Damn. You'd think that being 40-odd, divorced, law-enforcement officer would be enough to qualify him being regarded as a grown-up. Never mind moving halfway across a continent and burying a child. But no. Apparently his mother still regarded him as five years old and incapable of running his own life. Well, I'm running it just, fine, thank you, Ma. I love and am loved, he thought. But I just can't find the courage to tell you about it. He was a coward. Plain and simple. Rather face a screaming horde of terrorists than tell his parents he'd turned queer. Wasn't that a kick in the balls? 

He wiped up the last of the choked-out soda out of his lap. Sighing, he pulled himself up, looking down at the wet patch. Damn. He'd slip the video in right after he changed out of these ruined pants, then he'd settle down for a long session in front of the idiot box. Maybe a good dose of looking at cow's asses would improve his mood. See if he couldn't lose himself in cowshit and saddles. 

* * *

Chapter 10. 

Skinner arrived at his place at 7. Early for a work day, but still far too late for Doggett's taste. As he took his overcoat, briefcase and scarf, Skinner told him how many people had asked after his health, from Kim and the typing pool, to George, the security guard. Doggett was touched, and not a little embarrassed that everyone knew he'd been floored by Agent Mulder. 

Skinner had been vastly amused at how many of the secretaries had found the excuse to call and check up on him. Wondered if he should be jealous. Doggett had silenced him with a kiss. 

They sat and ate a large meal, which Doggett had prepared earlier in a seizure of culinary boredom. Talked shop over the meal, drank wine, taking it easy. Sometime during Skinner's request for a second helping of potatoes, it occurred to Doggett that this was so comfortable, it was almost criminal. Eating together. Enjoying each others' company. He found himself wishing this was how it was every single day. That he could sit in a warm kitchen opposite this man, laughing, sharing his meals, watching him eating and enjoying the food And then he sat and wondered in amazement at himself. When the hell did he turn into Martha Stewart? 

"That was great," Skinner told him, pushing away his plate and sitting back, sighing. "I needed that." 

"Uh-huh." Doggett passed him the wine. "Re-fill?" 

Skinner shook his head. "Better not. Or I'll be asleep before the news." 

Laughing, Doggett slipped the stopper back in. "Fair enough." 

"Besides." A large hand reached across the table. I have plans." 

"Oh?" 

Grinning, Skinner took hold of Doggett's long fingers and pulled him in. 

"Yeah. I shall be very hurt if you've forgotten what I promised this morning." 

Doggett grinned, remembering how the conversation in the car had given him goose bumps. 

"I haven't forgotten." He watched his fingers slip between Skinner's lips, warm and wet. 

That agile tongue stroked along the side of each finger, letting him know what was in store. 

Skinner winked, pulling his hand away. "Think you're up to it?" 

"Well. Why don't you look see?" 

"Why don't I do just that?" Standing up, Skinner pulled him up, and dragged him across towards the stairs. 

Happily compliant, Doggett followed, feeling himself harden in anticipation. 

They got halfway up the stairs and Skinner stopped suddenly, turning round. 

"I don't believe it." 

Putting his hand on the other man to keep from bumping into him, Doggett frowned. "What?" 

"You're not insisting on doing the dishes." 

"What?" 

"You always insist on washing up the kitchen before anything else." He stared. "What's wrong?" 

Open-mouthed, Doggett stared back. "Nothin's wrong..." He punched Skinner lightly. 

"Bastard." 

Laughing, Skinner resumed his ascent, dragging an outraged Doggett behind him. 

"Get in there," Skinner instructed, throwing open the bedroom door. 

"Bossy." 

"You got that right." Pushing until Doggett's legs met the mattress, Skinner advanced, a fistful of shirt gripped tight. Trapped against the bed, Doggett swayed slightly as his mouth was claimed and invaded. The kiss was hard and urgent, bringing a flutter in Doggett's legs and a steel rod in his pants. 

"Good," he gasped out when Skinner finally released him. 

"Uh-huh." The bigger man cupped the back of his neck, pushing against his chest with the other hand. "On the bed," he instructed, lowering Doggett down. "Gently..." And easing Doggett down with careful hands, Skinner climbed up to straddle him. 

"Now then, Agent Doggett," he said. "Let's see what's going on down in these pants of yours, shall we?" 

"Will this be forming part of the new Assistant Directors' policy regarding the health of subordinates, sir?" 

Skinner laughed softly, unbuttoning tented denim. "I think it might well be, Agent. You have a problem with that?" 

Doggett grunted as both sides of his fly was peeled back, releasing his dick. 

"No, sir. No problem at all." He lifted his hips to allow the jeans to be stripped down his legs and off his socked feet. 

"Just so long as I'm the only agent with whom you're gonna be initiating this particular policy." 

Skinner flashed him a grin. "Jealous?" 

Doggett made a low noise in his throat. "Very." 

Skinner laughed, then distracted, plucked at the waistband of his briefs. 

"What have we here?" 

"What?" Doggett lifted his head to look down. 

"These. Underpants. I brought you boxers, this morning." 

Shrugging, Doggett scratched at his nose. "Well... I took a shower." 

"Why would you need to do that?" Skinner scowled. "Did you go running? You know what the doctor said..." 

"No, I didn't go running, Walt. Relax, okay?" 

"Then why'd you need a shower?" 

Embarrassed, Doggett sighed. Damn. 

"I spilled something on myself, okay? I needed to change." 

"And the underwear? What d'you do? Bathe in it?" 

"You might say." 

"What was it?" 

Doggett sighed again. "Dr. Pepper." 

Skinner's eyebrows rose. "Yeah? This some kink I don't know about?" 

"Shut up and kiss me, Walt." The conversation with his mother was something he didn't want to recount while lying here in his underwear. 

"Okay. But we're gonna talk about this soft drink fetish of yours, y'hear?" 

Doggett grunted into the mouth that covered his. Kissing was better than talking about his mother. Actually, cleaning out the gutters in the middle of winter butt-naked was better than talking about his mother. He wanted to push thoughts of her as far away as possible right now, so he shut his eyes and pressed his tongue between Skinner's teeth. 

By the time their mouths parted, Mrs Doggett Snr. had fled from Doggett's mind in the face of a raging hard-on and a very warm Assistant Director kneeling over him, ripping off both of their shirts. The clothes disappeared across the room. 

"What about these?" Doggett held up a socked foot, waggling the toes. 

"Those stay on." 

"Oh?" Looking curiously, Doggett smiled. "Why?" 

"I like how they look." 

Laughing, Doggett dug a foot into Skinner's side. "Now who's got the fetish?" 

"Leave me alone. It's a perfectly ordinary thing to like." 

"Oh, please. Woolly socks turn you on? I don't believe it!" 

Skinner pulled a face. "I didn't say it turned me on - I just like how it looks. Okay? No need to give me a hard time about it." 

Doggett laughed, and put his foot down. "Okay, big guy. Calm down. The socks can stay." 

"Yeah, well." Skinner grumbled. "Do I make fun when you ask me to put my leather jacket on?" 

"Fair enough. Point taken." Reaching up to put his hand to Skinner's face, he patted gently. He bumped his hips up. "But aren't we forgetting something?" 

Turning to bite at the hand, Skinner grinned. "No chance of that, Marine. I need to check my property." 

"Your property?" 

"Uh huh. Got a problem with that?" 

No, he didn't. He didn't at all. "Sounds good to me. Help yourself." 

Bending down with a grin, Skinner slowly peeled down the navy briefs, easing them over Doggett's upright dick, and down his legs. 

"Looks good, so far." 

"Think you might need a closer look." Doggett spread his legs apart, Skinner moving so he knelt between them. 

"Think you might be right." 

He wriggled himself around until he was lying down, his nose level with Doggett's groin. 

"This better?" 

"I think so," Doggett breathed, the air in his lungs going in and out faster in anticipation. 

"Right then," Skinner reached up and gently touched Doggett's balls. "This hurt?" 

Doggett shook his head. "Uh uh." He could barely feel it. The fingers whispered across his skin, barely disturbing the hair. "Touch me harder." 

Skinner shook his head. "Don't want to hurt you." 

"You won't." Doggett pushed his hips up again. "Won't let you." 

Nodding, Skinner stroked along the edge of Doggett's groin, around the root of his cock and back down, avoiding his balls altogether. 

A thin whine bled out of Doggett. 

"Don't tease," he pleaded. 

"You like to be teased," Skinner reminded him, brushing his skin some more. 

Raising up, Doggett looked down at the other man between his legs. For lots of different reasons that he didn't understand, he needed Walt to touch him the way he usually did. Not the least of those reasons was checking to make sure everything was in working order. He just needed to be touched confidently, like Skinner wanted to be doing what they were doing. No hesitation. And if he cared to stop to analyse himself, he might find that it was more a psychological need than it was a physical one. 

"Not tonight," he said. "I want you to touch me properly. I want..." 

He paused, wondering how much of his state of mind he was giving away. 

"Want you to..." He didn't think of himself as a needy man. Not anything out of the ordinary from the usual insecure male, anyway. But right now, he needed to ask for something. 

Skinner was staring back, waiting for him to finish. 

He spoke quietly, just a hair above a whisper. "Just make love to me, Walt." 

The words were easier than he expected. Not the defeat he thought voicing the need would be. 

Skinner's face softened as he smiled. "I can do that." 

Bending his head, he leaned in and kissed both of Doggett's thighs, moving slowly up towards his groin. 

"With pleasure." 

Sighing, Doggett placed his head back on the pillow and raised both arms above his head. That was better. That was a touch that felt like it meant every stroke. The kisses and little nuzzles worked their way up the crease of his groin and at last, to his balls. He felt Skinner cup him in his hand. 

"You're pretty banged up, here, John." 

"Tell me about it." Mulder's knee was harder than his head. 

"You sure you want this?" Skinner sounded doubtful. 

"Uh huh." He pushed his hips up. God, he wanted this. He wanted it like he couldn't believe. Never mind the bruises, the aches, the pains. He needed to be re-assured. No idea why - but he needed it all the same. 

"You're kind of sore looking." He felt himself being lifted. "I don't know if this is such a good idea." 

The doubt in Skinner's voice hit him in the guts. Stupid, but it hurt more than his battered balls. 

"Maybe we should wait a day or two," he said, his voice muffled from where he was inspecting the damage. 

No. Doggett didn't want to wait a day or two. He didn't even want to wait another minute. 

He needed this now. "Walt..." 

Skinner sighed. "Okay." He stroked a thigh. "If you're sure." 

Doggett bit down on his lip. He was sure. He was so damn sure he couldn't speak. He shut his eyes and concentrated on the sensations below his waist. He felt Skinner let his balls rest back, laying them down with a stroke across skin that Doggett knew was mottled with bruises. He'd spent a fair amount of that morning in the bathroom, with a mirror and a pained expression. Skinner took his cock and ran his fingers up and down, so gently it tickled. Doggett squirmed. The fingers held firmer, moving in long strokes that brought Doggett's hips off the bed. He groaned. 

"Good?" 

"Yeah." He breathed the word out, eyes still tightly shut, arms above his head, forearms clasped together. 

It was good. Skinner knew exactly what to do to him. Knew precisely what he liked. Start with a few little licks before nibbling gives way to an erotically slow decent into a hot mouth. He felt his cock slide in. Shit, he gives great head. The echo of the thought sounded in his head, loud enough to make him bite down on his lip to stop it spilling out. Don't say that out loud! His conscience and his pride held a loud conversation in his head Why not? Wasn't as if it was any secret to Walt - he knew he gave great head. Took pleasure in pleasing him... More to the point, what made him suddenly think of that? Shit! Did he actually say that to his mother? Fuck! No way! She'd have been on the next plane out here. Probably, but then that wasn't really a possibility while he was busy playing hide-and-seek with his private life. That was because it was fuckin' private, he insisted, feeling Skinner take him incredibly deep. You think? Exactly how private do you think this really is? And do you really want it to stay that way? Huh? For the rest of... 

Doggett ground the back of his head into the pillow, rubbing his arms roughly over his eyes, heedless of the pain. Stop it! He didn't want to hear all this shit. Lying with his cock in Skinner's mouth wasn't the time or the place... Really? And were would the time or place be, his conscience enquired? How about the next visit to your folks? Or maybe you can avoid seeing them until they're safely dead? Or how about next Christmas... Or the Christmas after that... Ooh! Here's a good one! Sal's wedding, whenever that might be. Is Walt still gonna be safely hidden in that closet then? You gonna be the sad lonely man that everyone whispers about: What a shame - never got over that divorce... 

Unable to breath through his nose, Doggett pulled in a jagged gasp, releasing his abused lip. Jesus! What was the matter with him? He took another breath. This was fuckin' crazy. There was this tight knot inside in that was cranking tighter every second. His eyes were itchy and he couldn't breathe. What the hell was wrong with him? To his shame, he cold feel his boner waning. Oh Christ - no! He wanted to do this... He needed.... His erection wilted and fell from Skinner's mouth. 

"John?" 

Oh shit, not now... Doggett gritted his teeth against the wave of humiliation. Skinner would think he didn't want him. For the love of God, he hadn't lost it since his college days. 

"Please, Walt." Shit. His voice sounded all funny. He cleared his throat and tried again. 

"Just..." 

Nothing else could get past the lump in his throat. Shit, fire and corruption. He dug his arms in on his face, hiding. 

"John?" Skinner was moving up from between his legs. 

"What's wrong? Have I hurt you?" 

The concern in Skinner's voice made Doggett bark out loud with choked laughter. 

"John?" A big hand smoothed up along one of his arms. "Hey... Talk to me." 

Yeah, like he could, right now. He shook his head in lieu of answering. 

Skinner was lying next to him now, he could feel the warmth of the other man's chest against his side. Slowly an arm snaked underneath his shoulders and Doggett felt himself being pulled into a hug. 

"C'mere." Skinner's mouth was very close to his ear. "Let me hold you." 

Giving in to the inexorable pull of the strong arms that surrounded him, Doggett rolled onto his side, let his arms drop, and allowed Skinner to cradle him like a child. Well, that was what he felt like. Some big, dumb kid, leakin' round the eyes for no good reason. He was disgusted at himself. He turned his head away. 

"No you don't." Skinner put a hand on the side of his head and turned it back into the nape of his neck. "You stay right there." The hand held him in place, stroking through his hair. Doggett sighed into the warm neck. 

"It's okay..." Skinner whispered, dropping a kiss on the top of Doggett's head. 

"I've got you." 

The gentle words were the last straw. Doggett felt his breath catch in his throat and then the burn scalded the backs of his eyes, and Skinner held him tightly, muttering soft words as he cried silently into the joint of the warm shoulder. 

* * *

Chapter 11. 

When he woke up the second time that day, Doggett was in no doubt about what it was that had roused him. It wasn't a hint this time, he was surrounded by the scent of Skinner's body. Enveloped and cocooned. Inhaling deeply, he let his eyes creak open. In bed. They were still in bed, but a cover had been pulled up over the two of them, keeping the cool evening air from his naked body. 

"Hey." Above him, Skinner spoke softly, as if unsure if he was awake. 

"Hey." 

Shit, this was going to be embarrassing. He employed delaying tactics by rubbing his face on Skinner's chest. He wasn't in any rush to look the other man in the face. 

"Feel better?" 

There was a question. He felt as if he'd been hit from behind by a city cab, and didn't know if he could stand the humiliation of the next few minutes. He shrugged, shoulders still wrapped up in big arms. "Reckon so." Then winced at himself. Damn. Hick-mode again. He tried so hard to lose that. 

Closing his eyes again, he allowed himself the luxury of nestling in the warm folds of Skinner's body. Maybe if he fell asleep again, he'd avoid the embarrassment of a question and answer session about him bawlin' like a baby. He could live without that. Skinner shifted slightly, so that he could look down. 

"So you want to tell me what all that was about?" 

No. He didn't. 

"I..." He delayed again by scratching his nose and rubbing his tired eyes. "It was nothin'. Honest." 

"John..." 

"Really. Musta been over-tired." 

Skinner moved again, and this time put a hand to Doggett's chin, lifting it up so far as he had no alternative but to look into those dark eyes. 

"I don't appreciate lies, John." 

Doggett swallowed. Damn. What was he supposed to say to that? 

"I'm not." He stared into unconvinced eyes and sighed. "Hell. Skinner. I don't know!" 

He pulled his head away and rubbed at his eyes. Shit. This was horrible. He couldn't remember the last time he cried. Yes he could. He pushed that memory away. Let's just say he couldn't remember the last time he cried in front of anyone else, let alone in their arms. He pulled away slightly to lie on his back. The ceiling held great fascination right now. He stared at the spider-like cracks, hoping Walt would let it go. 

"Is it..." Skinner hesitated. "You know... Us?" 

Damn. Doggett looked across into Skinner's dark eyes. It shocked him to see the expression trying to hide in them. 

"No, Walt. It's not 'us'." He pulled his mouth into a smile. "I promise you." 

Well, congratulations, John. That's a great start. Lie number one. Skinner nodded slowly, as unconvinced as Doggett felt. "So...?" 

Doggett shrugged. "Just tired, I guess." 

Lie number two. 

"I've seen you tired, John. Doesn't usually make you cry." 

Doggett blushed. He'd had a vague idea that if no-one mentioned the 'c' word, then he could pretend it never happened. So much for that theory. 

"Tired and bruised," he corrected. 

"Again, I've seen that." Skinner folded his arms over his chest. "So why don't you try again." 

Fuck. 

"If it's not us, then what else is going on in your life that I don't know about. What can make you do this?" 

Tipping his head back on the pillow, Doggett contemplated the cracks again. Was it worth going for lie number three? Was it worth risking what they had here and now for what might possibly be in the future? Would Skinner freak out if he knew what was going through Doggett's mind? He wondered how far into a relationship queer guys usually got before having one of 'these' talks. And did they have much of one left by the time they'd finished? 

"I was thinking about Sal's wedding," he said at last. 

"I didn't know..." 

He waved a hand. "She's not." 

"Then why..." 

Doggett stretched his arm up, easing out the creased muscles. "I like weddings. Everyone's in such a great mood. On their best behaviour." He grinned. "Until the drink kicks in, then all hell breaks loose. Pretty good drinkers, my family. Things always gets real interesting after the sun goes down." He put his arm down, the blood had run out of it, leaving it feeling empty. Like the rest of him. 

"I don't see the connection." 

"Huh?" 

"Between Sal's wedding and you..." He paused. "You know." 

Seemed Skinner wasn't that keen on the 'c' word, either. Doggett looked at him. 

"I saw her, in my head. Standing there." 

Skinner nodded. "Go on." 

"I was watching from across the room. In a corner. By myself." He pulled in a shaky breath. "Alone." 

Skinner made no comment, just rubbed his hand across Doggett's belly. 

"I know what you're gonna say," Doggett smiled gently. 

"Do you?" Skinner smiled. 

"Yeah." He sighed. "You're gonna say 'you're not alone', aren't you?" 

Skinner chuckled. "Maybe. But what's wrong with that?" 

Nothing at all was wrong with that. Nothing and everything. It might be the most stupid thing he could possibly ask, given their jobs, their personal histories and their age, but Doggett could feel the words rushing up from his gut, bypassing his common-sense and out, regardless of the consequences. 

"I want you to come to Sal's wedding." 

"You said she's not..." 

"When she does." 

Skinner looked amused. He nodded. "Okay." 

"No. I mean it." 

"Okay," he said again. 

This was far too easy. Doggett didn't know if Skinner understood what he was saying. What the implications were of them going to Sal's wedding together. Hell. Going any place together. 

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" 

Skinner shrugged. "I think so." 

"You sure 'bout that?" 

"Well, as I see it, you're either going to have to pretend you need an FBI bodyguard to attend your sister's wedding, or you're going to have to introduce me as your... Friend. Partner. Whatever." Bringing his hand up from where it rested on Doggett's belly, he ran it across a warm chest. 

"It'd be like that Robert DeNiro film." 

Dogget frowned. "Raging Bull?" 

"No. Meet the Parents." 

"Oh." 

Running his finger around a nipple, Skinner smiled. "As long as your father isn't going to wire me up to anything." He laughed. "Or kick my ass." 

Slowly smiling, Doggett flicked the tickling finger. "Nah. He only does that to blood relations." 

"That's a relief." 

Watching the other man playing with his tit, Doggett wondered where the explosion was. There had to be more to this discussion than that. 

"Walt..." He captured the hand on his chest. 

"Yes?" Big brown eyes regarded him calmly. 

He shook his head. "I really don't understand you." 

Smiling, Skinner shrugged. "What's not to understand?" 

Doggett pulled a face. "My parents, for starters." 

"How bad can they be?" 

Doggett decided now was not the time to answer that question as fully as it deserved. He inspected the hand he held. "You know what people will say." 

"Probably." 

"And that doesn't bother you?" 

Skinner sighed. "Look. I'm not responsible for what other people think or say." He pulled his hand towards his mouth and kissed the back of Doggett's fingers. 

"All I care about is you, you skinny sack of shit." 

That brought a smile to Doggett's face. "Yeah?" 

Skinner rolled his eyes. "Did that kick in the nuts dislodge your insecurity chip?" 

"Nah. That would be the blow to the head." 

Skinner grunted and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. 

"Hear this, Agent Doggett." He kissed him again. "I have no problem meeting your family." Another kiss. "I have no problem being introduced as your... Whatever you want to call me..." He placed a kiss in the centre of Doggett's lips. "What I will not do, however, is walk hand in hand down the corridors of the Hoover building, singing show tunes. Okay?" 

Grinning around another kiss, Doggett nodded. "Fair enough." 

"Besides, I'm betting you haven't the balls to sing in public." 

Doggett shook his head. "Was in the church choir 'til I enlisted." He grinned at the look on the other man's face. "Sorry to disappoint you." 

"That a fact?" 

"Yep." Strange, he'd have put money on never admitting that little fact to anyone ten minutes ago. 

"Maybe I should re-think the corridor-thing, then." 

"Think of your reputation." He was only half-joking. 

Skinner just looked calmly at him. "Like I care." 

He spelt it out. "You could make DD one day." 

Skinner shook his head. "Too much shit's been thrown around. Won't happen." 

"Might." 

"Nah. Anyway. I found something better than a fast-track career." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"And what would that be, Assistant Director?" He really wanted to hear what he hoped Skinner was suggesting. Wanted to watch the words fall out of his mouth. 

Rolling his eyes, Skinner sighed. "You... You dopy, skinny-assed..." 

Laughing, Doggett pulled the other man towards him by the ears, to kiss him hard. Shit. He didn't need to hear the rest of it. That was enough. As his mouth was eventually released, Skinner used his thumb to wipe the moisture from Doggett's bottom lip. 

"So. That okay with you?" 

Cocking his head one way then the other, Doggett pulled his mouth down in a 'so-so' gesture. 

"Suppose." He nodded. "I could get used to bein' Mrs. Skinner." 

"Long as don't have to be Mrs. Doggett." 

That was just horrible. He winced. "Deal." 

"So. You okay?" 

Doggett gave that question long consideration. Theoretically, yeah. He was okay with it. Practice might be a whole different ball of wax, but they'd cross that bridge when they stood on his parents' front porch. 

"Yeah. I am." He bent to kiss the other man. "I'm good." 

"No more..." He waved a hand at Doggett's face. 

He nodded, understanding. "Uh-uh." 

"Good." Heaving himself up from the bed, Skinner stretched. "I feel a cup of coffee coming on. You up for that?" 

"You bet." Throwing back the covers, he swung his legs around, searching for his discarded clothes. 

"Hey, Big Dog." 

Glancing up, his jeans halfway up his thighs, Doggett raised his eyebrows. "What?" 

Skinner jerked his chin in a southerly direction. "I'm going to finish what I started, later. You hear?" 

"That a promise?" 

"That's a warning." 

Doggett grinned and followed a wide set of shoulders down the stairs. 

* * *

Chapter 12 

Doggett ended up making the coffee, while Skinner rewound the video he'd watched earlier and sponged out a couple of soda stains he'd missed. Smiling to himself, Doggett carried the mugs through. 

"What are you grinning at?" Skinner asked, wiping his hands on a square of paper towel. 

"Just thinkin'" 

"I don't think you should be allowed to do that by yourself." 

Putting the mugs down, he flipped Skinner the bird. 

"I was just thinkin' what my 'ex' would make of this. You on your hands and knees cleanin' the furnishings like a good little houseboy." 

Skinner snorted and threw the towelling at him. "I think she might be more focussed on the fact that her 'ex' was fucking the houseboy, don't you?" 

Doggett laughed. "Maybe. She wasn't big on that, so I don't know. She might be more concerned with what kind of cleaning stuff you're using." 

"What? You mean she wouldn't be focussed on my gorgeous body?" 

Skinner puffed up his chest and struck a pose. 

"Sorry to disillusion you." Lowering himself on to the sofa, he patted the seat next to him. 

"Come and sit down and let me do the focussin'." 

Skinner grunted again and flopped down, wriggling around to get comfy. He snatched the remote and jabbed it in the direction of the television. 

"News is on." 

"That'll be fun." 

"Stop bitching." 

Doggett saluted. "Yes, boss." 

Skinner gave him a look over his glasses, making Doggett laugh. 

"Come here, trouble." 

"What?" 

Skinner held his arm out. "Here." 

Scooting closer, Doggett inserted himself under the outstretched arm. 

"That better?" he asked, grinning. 

"Closer." 

Rolling his eyes, he wriggled closer. "Jeez! You're just so needy, Walt." That got him another look. 

"Shut up and sit still. I'd like to watch the news." 

Laughing, Doggett tucked one leg under the other, then hooked it over the top of Skinner's, draping himself comfortably. 

"Comfy?" Skinner asked, not taking his eyes from the television. 

"Yep," Doggett confirmed, lacing his hand through the one lying in Skinner's lap. "Very." 

"I'm so glad." 

Listening with half an ear to the newscaster, Doggett stared up at the other man. He was watching the news intently, his thumb stroking over the top of Doggett's arm, his only movement. Doggett studied Skinner's face, his concentration looking almost stern in the evening light. It was a face that could send agents running for cover and turn ineffective secretaries into quivering heaps. Doggett smiled. He could understand that. He'd been witness to the wrath of AD Skinner more than once on the job - it was an awesome sight. But he was lucky enough to know the other side. He stared some more, studying the curve of jaw, the line of his neck. 

Never shifting his gaze from CNN, Skinner spoke. 

"See something green?" he asked, amusement tempering his words. 

"Just thinkin'." 

"I've warned you about that." 

Doggett chuckled. They sat in silence, the chatter of the television filling the room. 

"Thinking about what?" Skinner asked at last. 

"Stuff." 

"Oh yeah? Like what?" 

"Like how you can never open a carton of juice without swearing..." 

"Fascinating." Skinner continued to stare at the television, unimpressed. 

Doggett thought about it a bit more then spoke again. 

"And like how in the morning, you always shave your neck first, never start with your cheeks." 

"You need a hobby, Doggett." 

He smiled, watching the other man blinking at the news. 

"I'm thinkin' about how you eat an ice cream. How you always bite it like you think it's gonna get away or somethin'." 

That just got a grunt. The eyes never wavered. Doggett smiled. 

"And that I love you." 

That got his attention away from current events. He fixed his gaze on Doggett, a slow smile emerging from the stern expression. 

"Aren't we the soppy one?" he teased. 

"Sue me." 

Skinner shook his head. "I'd rather kiss you." 

Shrugging, Dogget tried not to grin. "Go for it." 

As Skinner bent his head, Doggett shut his eyes in anticipation and parted his lips. 

"Agent Doggett?" 

The voice from the direction of the kitchen zapped them apart. Doggett looked around wildly. What the fuck? Was he hearing things? 

"Are you home?" 

Doggett stared at Skinner in horror. Fuckin' hell! Scully! Never minding his bruised balls, Doggett leaped up off the sofa as if poked with a cattle-prod. 

"Hello?" She was calling from the kitchen. From the back door. "Anyone home?" 

Doggett's mouth hung open. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He turned his desperate expression on Skinner, who was also staring, but to his disgust, didn't look as panic-stricken as he felt. 

"Agent Doggett?" 

"Er... Hi, Agent Scully," he called out, looking at Skinner, holding his hands out as if to say, what do I do? Skinner jerked his head towards the kitchen. Doggett got the message and dived, stumbling over the coffee table, and staggering towards the kitchen in an unco-ordinated mess. 

"Ah, so you are home..." Scully's voice trailed off. 

"Yeah, I'm here," Doggett said, catching his balance and trying to grasp a shred of dignity. 

"Watchin'the t.v." 

Scully waved a hand. "I rang the bell. I don't think it works." 

Whaddya know! He didn't tell lies to his mother after all. Well, perhaps half a lie. 

"Really?" 

What was Skinner doing in the lounge? Hiding behind the sofa? 

"Prob'ly needs a new battery. I'll get on it over the weekend." Glancing the way she indicated, he shoved his hands in his jeans. 

"Then I remembered that men don't lock their back doors," she said, smiling. "Thought I'd test the theory." 

"Yeah." He nodded shrugging. "Think I'd know better, wouldn't you? Bein' an officer of the law, 'an all." 

He had to keep her out of the lounge. There was no explanation in the world that would cover their boss being in there, at this time of night. In only half of his clothes. He watched Scully's face wander from puzzled to intrigued as her eyes travelled down his body. What the hell? Following her gaze, he realised with a sinking despair that Skinner wasn't the only one that was shirtless. Shit. Her eyes came back up and met his, one brow rising in that way of hers. Shit. 

"I was..." He shrugged. Taking a shower? Changin' clothes? Makin' out on the sofa? What to say... What to say... 

"I wanted to see how you were feeling," Scully said, saving him from his dilemma. "Didn't get a chance to speak with you yesterday. After you were admitted." 

"Uh-huh." Still standing like an idiot, with his hands in his pockets. 

"I'm pretty much..." He shrugged, knowing his black eye was just this side of spectacular. "Okay, I guess." 

"Uh-huh." She stood, studiously not staring at his body, eyes fixed on his face. 

And all things considered, he'd rather they weren't, as he was sure he could feel a blush starting. Was she wondering why he was spending the evening, sitting round half naked? You bet she was. His manners came to the rescue, saving either of them from commenting on his state of undress. 

"Can I get you..." He indicated the steaming coffee pot. "A drink, or somethin', Agent Scully?" Please, say no, he prayed to himself. Pleased say no... 

"You know, I'd love a cup of coffee." She smiled. "I really shouldn't, but what the hell. One can't do any harm." 

Oh, one cup can do plenty of harm, Doggett thought, moving to get her a mug, debating on how he could get rid of her before she spotted Skinner. 

"Please sit down, make yourself comfortable." He rummaged in a cupboard, wondering what the hell Walt was up to. Sneaking a glance over his bare shoulder, he saw that Scully had elected to sit facing the doorway, taking with her choice of seat, any hope of Skinner sneaking past her and making it upstairs unseen. 

"Mulder said he popped in to see you last night." 

"More like this morning," Doggett grumbled, setting a mug in front of her. 

"This okay? I haven't got any china." 

She smiled. "It's great. I don't do silly little cups where coffee's concerned." 

"Cream?" He pushed the jug towards her, perching on the opposite stool. 

Nodding, she poured a generous dollop into her mug and stirred. She took a sip and rolled her eyes. 

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Sipping again, she looked at his face, nodding. 

"That bruise is coming out nicely." 

Reaching to touch his cheek, instinctively, he winced. "Yeah. Kinda spoils my looks, don't ya think?" 

She laughed. "Oh, I don't know. Adds a certain rakish charm." 

He smiled. Walt had told him the same thing, this morning, when he drove him home. 

Looking into the depths of her mug, Scully watched the steam rise. "Can I ask you something?" 

Alarmed by the sudden change of subject, Doggett felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. 

"I guess." 

He waited a while, while she frowned, obviously trying to work out how to put whatever it was she wanted to know. 

"Scully?" 

She looked up. "Dana," she said. 

He nodded. First names might be a good start, if this was going where he suspected. And he was sure it was. 

"Dana. Just ask. Whatever it is." 

She looked at him, those blue eyes calculating and analysing. "I was talking to Mulder earlier." 

"Yeah?" 

She nodded. "After he came to see you." 

"After he woke me up, you mean." 

Laughing, she sipped her drink. "Yes. I'm sorry about that. He's never been very good at following the traditional path." She sighed and put the mug down. 

"Anyway, we were wondering..." 

Doggett held up his hand. "I know where this is going, Dana. And I'm not sure I know what to tell you." He shrugged. "My personal life and relationships are just that. Personal." 

She opened her mouth to say something, but he forestalled her. 

"No. Let me finish. I'm not sure what Muldah's reasons are for knowing my business, but whatever they are, until it interferes with my work, I think I'd prefer not to comment on his suspicions regarding AD Skinner and myself." 

In the silence that ensued, he looked at Scully and she looked right back at him. 

"Are you finished?" 

Frowning, he nodded silently. 

"Firstly, I told you once before, it wasn't my style to enquire about that kind of thing. It still isn't." 

He had the manners to look embarrassed. "I just thought..." 

"I know what you thought." She shook her head. "And secondly, whatever Mulder might or might not imply, isn't necessarily my standpoint, or indeed of any interest." 

He rubbed his finger over the counter, gathering sugar grains. Shit. 

"I er..." He absently sucked the sugar from his finger, wondering what to say next. 

He risked a glance at her. 

She was sipping her drink again. Calm, serene. Damn. How did she do that all the time? Didn't she ever lose it? 

"Look, Dana. I'm sorry. I'm just a little touchy, is all." 

She smiled as enigmatically as any painting. "I seem to recall we've had this conversation before. And in this very kitchen, if I'm not mistaken." 

He pulled a wry face. "Yeah." 

"So. Do you want to know what I was going to say? Or should we just skip to the part where you snap my head off?" Her smile took the sting from her words. 

Doggett smiled back at her. 

"Okay. I give in." He sat back on the stool and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Ask away." 

"Was about to ask if you would care to come over to my place for a meal, later in the week, when you're feeling a little better, of course." 

Oh. 

"Bit of an anti-climax from asking about your personal life, isn't it?" She smiled again. 

"I'll say," he said, shaking his head. This was unexpected. "Why?" He frowned. 

"I mean thank you, I'd love to. But..." 

"What's wrong, Agent Doggett?" 

He shook his head. "John." 

Nodding, she sipped her drink. "John. You sound surprised." 

"I am. I mean... You never asked me to dinner before." 

Putting her mug down, Scully brushed her hair behind her ear. 

"I know. And that was wrong of me. There is no reason we shouldn't eat a meal together. After all, we work together." She cocked an eyebrow. "But I should warn you Mulder will be in attendance, if that's a problem for you." The eyebrow gave way to a grin. "I know you two... Shall we say: 'react' with each other." 

Grinning in return, Doggett unfolded his arms. "Yeah, you could say that." 

"Well, I'll be acting as referee, so you should be safe enough." 

"You and Muldah go back a long way." 

"Meaning?" 

"Two against one. Hardly seems fair." He could get to enjoy this lighter side of Dana Scully. 

She snorted into her coffee. "You think you need back-up?" 

"Maybe." 

"Who'd you have in mind?" she laughed. 

The kitchen clock scrunched in the silence left behind when Doggett realised where the conversation had gone. Damn. 

"Me." 

They both turned to the doorway, where Skinner stood, arms folded, leaning casually, as barechested as Doggett, a slight smile on his face. Doggett's jaw dropped a good two inches as he stared in shocked silence, but the most amazing thing, was that Scully choked on her coffee. The calm dignified mask she always managed to wear slipped off, leaving her spluttering drink on the counter, red-faced and stunned. 

"Sir..." she gasped out, struggling to wipe coffee from her chin. 

"Agent Scully." Skinner nodded. 

Doggett looked from one to the other, the shock settling down in his guts into something that could be called amusement. It was almost worth the heart-attack of seeing Skinner standing there. Scully undone by the sight of a shirtless AD. Who'd have thought? Then again, the sight very nearly undid him, too. 

* * *

Chapter 13. 

The only sounds as Doggett fished out another mug and poured Skinner fresh drink, were the small noises that came from Scully both coughing and clearing up the mess she'd made on his counter. She dabbed at the droplets with a typically dainty tissue until Doggett took pity and handed her a big wad of paper towels. 

"Here. Try this." 

She looked up at him, eyes impossibly wide and took the offering silently, nodding briefly. 

Doggett grinned as he turned away. The unflappable Dr. Scully was speechless. No doubt too busy painting pictures in her head to bother with speech. He slid into the chair beside her and watched as she mopped and wiped, saving one last piece for her face. 

"That better?" he asked at last, holding his hand out for the sodden mess. 

"Yes thank you," she said in a very small voice. One he couldn't ever recall hearing from Dana Scully. 

Eventually, while the clock ticked loudly, he watched as her blue eyes came up and stared at first him, and then at Skinner. No-one spoke as she stared from one naked chest to the other, her eyes never once rising high enough to look them in the face. If it wasn't for the shit/fan potential, Doggett could quite happily have roared with laughter at the expression of dawning comprehension on her small face. Pieces were slotting into place, and judging by her expression, he'd lay odds on what pieces and which places. 

"More coffee?" he asked, not out of politeness, but the desire to break the silence. 

Scully shook her head. "No..." she croaked. Then clearing her throat, tried again, more successfully. "No thank you." 

She made it up to his eyes. 

He watched as she swallowed, the questions racing in her eyes. He wondered if she'd have the courage to ask them. 

"May I have a glass of water?" 

That wasn't what he expected her to say, but he nodded. "Sure." 

In the time it took him to fill a glass from the faucet and hand it to her, the Scully-mask had almost settled back into place. 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

She sipped delicately, regarding Skinner over the rim. 

"Ask, Agent Scully," Skinner told her. 

"Sir?" 

Skinner shrugged. "Whatever you want. Just ask." 

Replacing the glass very carefully on the counter, Doggett watched her take a slow breath. 

"It really isn't any of my business, sir." 

"But I've made it your business by being here, haven't I?" 

She inclined her head at his riposte. 

"So." Skinner arched his back in the chair, easing the kinks out of his spine. 

Doggett watched his chest expand with interest. So did Scully, he noted. 

"Now would be the moment to ask." 

He was very calm about this, Doggett thought. But then again, this whole confrontation-thing was his doing, by coming out of hiding. 

"I... um..." 

First the coffee fountain, now the tongue-tie. Indeed a night for monumentous revelations regarding Agent Scully. She glanced down at her glass, fingering the rim. Doggett took pity. 

"It's okay, Agen..." He smiled, correcting himself. "Dana. I still can't get over it myself." 

She looked at him, those questions still firing away inside her eyes. 

"So this..." She waved a small hand between them. "This is what I think it is?" 

The smile on his face gave way to a grin. It might be a touch mean, but he couldn't resist the chance to tease. 

"That depends on what you're thinkin'." 

Bingo! She blushed. 

"Believe me, I'm trying not to think." 

Skinner threw back his head and laughed, a deep roar that made both of them look at him in surprise. He chuckled away, until at last, running his hand over his face, he shook his head. 

"Oh, Scully! I'm sorry, but your face is a picture!" 

Doggett looked at the face in question, watching as one eyebrow soared. 

"I imagine it is," she said, dryly. "This isn't quite what I expected, when I came by." 

"Really?" Skinner leaned forward. "I thought you and Mulder had discussed this." 

Again, right on the button, Scully blushed. 

"Well..." She fiddled with the glass. "Not in so many words." 

"Really? Which words did you use, then?" 

She lifted her head and stared at him, defensively. "I believe some of them were 'regulations' and 'contrary', sir." 

"Ah." 

She nodded. "Quite." 

Doggett leaned forward, pushing the soggy paper towel aside. "And that's what you think this is, here? Just a violation of regs?" The other eyebrow joined its mate. "I didn't say that. I'm merely recounting aspects of a conversation." 

"Didn't sound like a positive one." 

She tilted her head to one side. "It was interesting, to say the least." 

Skinner grunted. "I'll bet. Which side were you on?" 

She gazed back at him, mask firmly back in place. "I don't take sides, sir. I merely report the facts as I see them." 

"And will you be reporting this fact?" An open challenge. 

Doggett held his breath. This might be where they find out both their careers had a sell-by date. The clock ticked out long seconds. 

"What fact would that be, sir?" 

Challenge thrown back. 

Skinner smiled as if he had anticipated her reply. He held a hand out. 

"What you see here." 

"It's not against regs to... socialise with agents, sir." 

There was the briefest of hesitation before the word 'socialise'. Enough to make Doggett smile. She wasn't in as much control as she liked to think. 

"True." Nodding, Skinner leaned forward to rest his chin on his hands, elbows perched on the counter. "But we all know that's not what's going on here, don't we?" 

Scully swallowed compulsively. 

"I'm not sure what you mean." 

"So I have to spell it out for you. Agent Scully?" 

The emotions that skittered across Scully's face were funny enough to make Doggett bite down on his lip to keep from roaring with laughter, despite the seriousness of the moment. Furious embarrassment jockied for position with raging curiosity. He wondered if Scully fell into the 90% of womenkind Maddi mentioned. Skinner smiled, wickedly. "Or would you prefer a demonstration?" Watching the colour crawl all over her face gave Doggett his answer. Definitely one of the 90%'ers. 

"Um..." A little throat-clearing. "I don't believe that will be necessary, sir." 

Not necessary, but he'd bet she was thinkin' about it. He squashed a grin down. 

"I still maintain: it's not my concern," she said, stubbornly keeping her eyes on Skinner's face. "Unless..." Those blue eyes flashed. "Unless it begins to affect work." 

Skinner shook his head. "It won't." 

"I hope not." 

"It hasn't for the past few months, has it, John?" 

Doggett shook his head, enjoying the look on Scully's face. "I don't think so." 

"Oh." she whispered, looking from one to the other, the idea that 'this' had been going on under her nose for months, taking her by surprise. "I see." 

There was silence for a minute, while she processed what she had been told. And then she smiled. Just a little one. 

"Are you planning on telling Agent Mulder?" 

"Aren't you?" Doggett couldn't believe for a second she wouldn't be on her cel phone the instant she left the house. "Tell him that he was right all along?" 

"It's not my place." 

Doggett snorted. "Oh, please. He's your partner." 

"So are you." 

He stared at her. 

"I think it's up to you to tell him..." She shrugged. "That is, if you want to." 

Scratching his chest in a most distracting way, Skinner grunted. "Puts you in a kind of awkward position, if we don't, doesn't it?" 

She shrugged again, giving a rueful little smile. "I've had some practice with keeping secrets." 

Doggett watched the two of them exchange a look. 

"I suppose so," Skinner said at last. "But I don't like it." He laid both hands flat on the work surface. "Tell you what. Extend that dinner invite to the two of us, and we'll tell Mulder together." 

A crooked grin spread over Scully's face. "That'd work," she said, nodding. And then she held up a finger. 

"Just one thing." 

"What?" 

The crooked grin grew wide. "I want to watch." 

Doggett couldn't resist. "Agent Scully! I had no idea you harboured fantasies..." 

She winced, blushing furiously. "I meant watch when you tell him." 

"I'm disappointed." 

Skinner tapped the counter. "Behave, John. The lady is a guest. Don't tease." 

Doggett grinned at him, relishing the chance to poke Scully's buttons. 

"Spoilsport." 

"Infant." 

Glancing to his side, he watched Scully'd head twitching from one to the other, incredulity written all over her face. 

She spoke. "Can I ask you something?" 

Both men turned to look at her. 

She blushed again. Doggett decided it was a good look for her. Made her softer round the edges, somehow. 

"Go ahead," Skinner said, when she hesitated. 

"Is this..." She waved her hand in a distracted way. "Whatever it is... a permanent thing?" 

Doggett glanced at Skinner. The other man was frowning. Not a good sign. He opened his mouth to tell her it was none of her damned business, but Skinner beat him to it. 

The frown creasing his forehead, Skinner shook his head. 

"I think you know me well enough to know that I don't embark lightly on anything, let alone things of this nature." 

Scully raised her eyebrows, a slight smile on her face. "It would seem I don't know you quite as well as I thought, sir." 

Inclining his head at her words, he smiled slightly. "So it seems. I'm sorry to disappoint you." 

Frowning, Scully shook her head. "I didn't say that. Please don't put words into my mouth." 

"So what are you?" 

She shrugged. "Surprised, I'll give you that." A grin crept out. "And a little intrigued, I'll admit, but not 'disappointed'." 

Absolutely in the 90%, Doggett thought. 

Skinner nodded, then sighed. 

"We all know it would be foolish, reckless even, to openly acknowledge a relationship of this nature in the FBI. - there are too many negative factors that would jump at the chance to make scapegoats of myself and Agent Doggett." 

Scully nodded, making Doggett's heart and guts slip in a sickening lurch towards his toes. Ouch! This was a bit too brutally honest for his liking. Skinner continued, either ignoring or not noticing the look of distress on Doggett's face. 

"I shouldn't think we'll be picking out furnishings at Macy's in the near future. And I can't see me moving in here, or buying cats anytime soon." 

Staring at the other man with his eyes wide and his heart in his woollen socks, Doggett swallowed a lump that seemed to have formed in his throat. What the hell was he getting worked up over this for? He didn't care about furnishings or fuckin' cats! 

Rubbing his finger on the counter, Skinner frowned again. 

"Actually, come to think of it, the pair of us must be out of our respective minds to be risking our careers doing this." 

Draining out of his socks and lying on the kitchen floor, Doggett's heart whimpered. Don't do this, he pleaded mentally. Not today. As he stared, Skinner's gaze came up from the work surface, he looked over to Doggett and grinned. 

"But, to answer your question, I'd say that this 'whatever' as you call it, is definitely permanent, Agent Scully." 

A tidal wave of relief and affection washed through Doggett's body, dragging love along by the scruff of its neck. He swallowed round that big old lump in his throat. Shit. He was getting too fuckin' sappy for his own good. 

"Is that okay?" he asked Doggett. 

'Okay' that he just said that in front of Scully, or 'okay' generally? Doggett didn't know which it was, not that he cared. 

"I think I can live with that," he said, hoping his voice wasn't as fucked up as his emotions. 

"Good." 

He lost himself in the dark eyes, not giving a shit that Scully was watching the pair of them, probably analysing every glance, every expression. He smiled at Skinner, suspecting that the thumping inside his chest was showing in the shine of his eyes and the size of his grin. But if the look on his face told her that he had fallen for their boss like a 13 year old girl, then so be it. He didn't care. 

There was a small noise from the chair to his left. 

"Erm..." Reluctantly, Doggett dragged his eyes off Skinner and round to Scully. 

He lifted his eyebrows. 

"So." She coloured up again. "About that dinner." 

"Sure. How 'bout tomorrow?" Checking over to Skinner he nodded. 

"That too soon?" 

Scully shook her head. "No. That's okay. You eat pasta?" 

Skinner laughed. "He eats everything, Agent Scully. And lots of it." 

Doggett frowned. "I don't eat 'everything'." 

"Oh yeah? I've never seen you turn anything down." 

"Tuna." Doggett pulled a face. "I don't do tuna." 

"Conservationist objections?" Scully asked. 

He grimaced, shuddering. "Nah. Just tastes like shit." He looked up, wryly. 

"Sorry 'bout that." 

Laughing, Scully lifted a shoulder dismissively. "I get the message. No tuna." 

"Tomorrow it is then." Skinner rubbed his hands together. "I shall look forward to that." 

"So shall I," Scully agreed, swinging her short legs round to slip down from the stool. Doggett rose and put his hand to her elbow. She looked at him, amused. 

"Thank you." He helped her down then removed his hand, lifting it to scratch at the back of his neck, embarrassed. 

"No tuna?" 

"No tuna, John. Mulder, but no tuna." 

Doggett grinned. "I can cope with that." 

"Okay." She stretched, her hands in the small of her back. "Time for bed." 

"Absolutely," Skinner agreed. 

Doggett saw Scully look sideways at him, colouring up again, her imagination obviously doing the funky monkey in her head. He shook his own head. Tomorrow was going to be interesting, to say the least. Maybe they'd better get an early night to be rested. He glanced at Skinner standing by the counter bare chested and tanned. Nah. Early night my ass. 

* * *

Chapter 14. 

Pulling absently on the buttonsof his denim shirt, Doggett watched through the window as Skinner filled the truck with gas. He'd forgotten he was low and consequently they had to make an emergency stop on the way to Scully's apartment. Skinner said it was his own fault for draining Doggett's brain through his cock. Smiling, he couldn't argue about that. 

Skinner looked up from the nozzle and stuck out his tongue. Replying in kind, Doggett wondered what the rest of the Bureau would make of it, if they could see the AD doing that. Commit him for tests, probably. He had wanted to wear his green sweater tonight, but Skinner had hidden it, saying there was no way he'd let him out of the house wearing it again. He fiddled with the neck of the tee shirt under his denim. Damn, he was fond of that sweater. 

"Stop messing." Skinner said as he slipped behind the wheel. 

"I feel over-dressed." 

Skinner looked him up and down. "You look fine." 

"I'd rather..." 

"I told you - you're not having that ratty old thing back until the weekend." 

"I like that sweater," Doggett complained. 

"It could do with being thrown out." 

Doggett pouted. "I got a lotta fond memories of that sweater." 

Swatting his knee, Skinner frowned. "Don't pull that face. You look like Mulder." 

"Bastard." 

Skinner grinned and turned the corner to Scully's road. He pulled to a stop by the curb. 

"You think this is such a great idea?" Doggett gripped the bottle of wine tighter. 

"You got a better one?" 

No. He didn't. 

"Do you think she told him?" 

Skinner shook his head. "No. She said she wouldn't. I believe her." 

"No. I mean about us both coming tonight." 

That threw Skinner. He stared out of the windshield. "I don't know." 

"Maybe we should arrive separately." 

"Why?" 

"I dunno. Break him in gently?" 

Skinner gave him an evil grin. "Freak him out more, you mean." 

Doggett grinned back. "Y'think?" 

Skinner's eyes flashed in the light of the street lamps. "Yeah. Let's go for it." 

He fished in his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he pressed a speed dail number and put it to his ear. 

"Agent Scully? Skinner here. Yeah, no problem" He glanced at Doggett. "Look we decided to arrive separately, okay. No. More discreet. Sure. No problem. See you in a minute." 

Clicking off, he turned in his seat. "Heads or tails?" 

"What?" 

"Heads you go first - tails, its me." 

"You're twisted, Skinner." 

He dug in his pocket and produced a quarter. "Okay?" 

Doggett sighed. "Get on with it." 

The coin twisted in the air and landed in Skinner's palm, heads up. 

* * *

He squared his shoulders and knocked firmly. No need to be nervous. It was just dinner.Yeah. Dinner and declarations. The door opened. 

"Hi there, Agent Doggett," Mulder grinned at him. "Come in." 

The apartment was lit by a mixture of candles and soft lighting. It was comfy, he had to admit. He wandered in, looking around. 

"Scully's just doing the last minute girl-things to the tuna casserole." 

Doggett's head whipped round. 

Mulder laughed and held up his hands. "Just joking." 

"Are you misbehaving already, Mulder?" Scully came through from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. 

"Uh-uh, Scully." He grinned at her. "I'm being a good boy." 

"I doubt that." She tossed the towel at him. "Hello, John. Glad you made it okay. How's the eye?" 

Doggett leaned towards her, showing her. "Comin' on nicely. Should be gone by the end of the week, I think." 

She put her finger to it, gently. "I think you're right." 

"How come you're never that gentle with my injuries, Scul?" Mulder whined. 

She gave Doggett a long-suffering look. 

Remembering the bottle in his hand, Doggett held it out. "I, um... Thought non-alcoholic would be best. You know..." He glanced down. "Considerin'." 

"Thank you, that's lovely." She waved at Mulder. "Get John a beer, will you, Mulder? I'm sure he'd appreciate a real drink." 

"Do I get another one?" Mulder called through from the kitchen. 

Scully smiled. "Why not?" she called back, winking at Doggett. 

"He might need it," she whispered. 

* * *

Chapter 15 

"...And you actually drank this 'Yard of Ale'?" Doggett asked dubiously. 

Mulder shook his head sadly. "I tried. But I just couldn't get it right, got drenched in beer every time. Seemed like everyone in the pub was laughing at the dumb Yank who couldn't do it." 

Doggett grinned. He'd have paid money to see Fox Mulder drowning in English ale. 

"Sounds like a well-rounded education to me," Scully commented from the armchair, where she sat with her legs curled up underneath her. 

He'd been here long enough to drink most of a bottle of Bud, and Skinner still hadn't shown up. He was itching to look at his watch, but didn't dare. 

Mulder stretched out his legs. "Only the English would think up a way of drinking beer that was so damned difficult. Almost like its a trap for the foreigners." 

"Worked, though," Doggett commented dryly. 

Grunting, Mulder swigged his beer. 

The unexpected knock on the door made him choke. 

Scully didn't stir. "Would you get that, Mulder?" 

"You expecting someone else?" Mulder asked, wiping his chin. 

Scully nodded. "As a matter of fact, I am." 

"Who?" 

"If you answer it, you'll see." 

Muttering, Mulder made his way across the room. "If it's your brother, I'm not staying." He pulled the door open. Then stared. "AD Skinner..." 

"Agent Mulder." 

The two men stared at one another. 

"Are you going to let me in?" Skinner asked, looking past Mulder's shoulder. 

Mulder just stared at him. 

Across the lounge, Doggett looked at Scully and grinned. 

"Mulder," she called. "Let him in, for goodness sake." 

Stepping to one side, Mulder made room. 

"Hello, sir," she said. "Glad you could make it." 

Skinner held up a bunch of flowers. "These are for you, Agent Scully. I hope that's still socially acceptable." He smiled. "It's been a while since I was invited to dinner." 

She reached up and took his the flowers. "They're lovely. Thank you. I think tonight it should be Dana, don't you?" 

Nodding, Skinner smiled. "Only if you make it Walter, okay?" 

"Okay..." She hesitated, as if trying the idea out in her head. "Walter." 

Behind them, Mulder shut the door with a little more force than was strictly necessary. 

"You didn't say," he said to Scully, a hint of a frown on his face. 

"Didn't I?" Scully was the picture of innocence, inspecting the flowers. 

"No. You didn't." 

Skinner looked him up and down. "You have a problem with me being here, Agent Mulder?" 

Mulder shifted a little, jamming his hands in his jeans. "No... I'm just surprised, that's all." 

"What that I eat real food? Or that I come out in human form at night?" 

From the sofa, Doggett chuckled. 

Chastened, Mulder shrugged. "No. I just..." 

"Oh, Mulder." Scully heaved herself out of the chair. "It's my apartment, I may invite whomever I please." 

"I know." That infamous Mulder-pout came out. "I'm just..." 

"You're just getting our guest a drink, aren't you?" 

Sighing, Mulder made for the kitchen. 

"And put these in some water, while you're in there, will you?" 

Taking the flowers just this side of a snatch, Mulder stalked past Skinner. 

"Beer okay with you?" 

"No thank you. I'm driving. Something non-alcoholic would be great." 

Mulder grunted and walked off, staring at the flowers as if he thought they might bite. 

"They really are lovely. Thank you again." 

"They were John's idea." He glanced over at Doggett. "He's the charmer." 

Scully looked at him with an amused expression. "You don't say?" 

He held up his free hand. "Hey... I'm just a lean, mean sex machine." 

And then wide-eyed, clapped his hand over his mouth when he realised what he'd said. There was a pause, and then Scully burst out laughing, her own hand coming up to cover her mouth. 

"Too much information, John," Skinner told him, shaking his head. 

"What is?" Mulder wandered back, a glass of juice in one hand the flowers in the other. 

Doggett pulled his hand down, willing none of the others to elaborate. He looked at Skinner, hoping the other man wouldn't use the moment to do the whole outing-thing. He wanted to eat first. 

"Oh, Mulder. Is that the best you could find?" She took the wide-necked wine bottle from him, shaking her head. 

"What's the problem?" he said, handing Skinner his drink. "They're in water, aren't they?" 

Scully rolled her eyes. "Excuse me a moment. I have to find a vase." She indicated the couch. "Please sit down. I won't be a moment." 

Sipping his apple juice, Skinner looked at the couch, then at Doggett. Taking the hint, he hitched up, making room. 

"Thank you." Skinner placed himself down, his large thigh deliberately brushing Doggett's as he settled. 

"So." Mulder perched on the arm of the other chair. "Human form, eh?" 

* * *

Much to Doggett's surprise, the meal went quite well. Scully was an excellent cook, having clearly enjoyed catering for more than one person for a change. And three hungry men did justice to the meal, putting away most of the food, and in Mulder and Doggett's case, several more beers. Seating opposite Skinner, Doggett diligently tried to avoid gazing into his eyes, conscious of Mulder's intuitive mind. Mind you, he thought, using his ciabatta to mop up the last of the sauce on his plate, considering what they were planning on revealing, it really didn't make much difference. He popped the bread into his mouth. 

"So, John," Scully said. "Do you have any other siblings?" 

He shook his head. "No. Just Sal." He grinned. "Came as a bit of a shock to my parents, 15 years after me." 

"I can imagine." Scully smiled. 

"Came as a bit of a shock to me, too," Doggett confessed, with a sigh. 

"You seem to get along okay," Mulder said. 

"Yeah, I suppose." He laughed. "Wasn't always like that. She drove me insane, growin' up." 

"Yeah?" 

"I won't say she was the reason I joined up, but it was a hell of an incentive." 

Skinner laughed. "You wuss! She was just a little girl!" 

Doggett stared across the table, incredulous. "Now I know you're an only child." 

Skinner just grunted. "Good job she's changed then." 

Wasn't that the understatement of the century? He stared at Skinner, reading the expression in the other man's eyes. 

"Pretty girl. Nice eyes." Mulder said thoughtfully. 

Doggett turned to look, wondering if he was going to make some smart assed comment. 

In the absence of any reply, Mulder looked up. 

"What?" 

Again, no-one spoke. He held up his hands and sat back. "What did I say?" 

Doggett shook his head. "Nothing." He was surprised, and a little off-balance. 

"Thank you." 

Mulder shrugged. "No big deal." 

Scully tapped the back of Doggett's hand. 

"I thought she looked a lot like you." 

He looked at her. "Y'think?" 

She nodded. "Like I'd imagine you looked when you were younger." 

"What, you mean the long hair and the skirt?" Skinner laughed. 

Doggett raised his middle finger. "Bite me." Then he closed his mouth and looked at Scully. "Sorry." 

She rolled her eyes. "You don't have to keep apologising for every little slip, John. I've heard it all before." 

"Not from me." 

She regarded him. "I'm patient. I'm sure will, eventually." 

He smiled. "Maybe, maybe not. That's not the way I was brought up." Strict parents?" Mulder asked. 

"Y'might say." Doggett pulled a face, remembering. "Definately." 

Mulder blew air between his lips. "My parents wouldn't have noticed if I'd stood on the table screamed 'fuck' at Sunday dinner." 

There was a moment of quiet again. He looked up at Scully. "Sorry." 

She rolled her eyes. "Now you sound like John." 

Mulder gave her a look. "No need for that." 

"Behave, Mulder," Scully said, flicking her napkin towards him. She clapped her hands together. "Would anyone care for dessert?" 

Skinner groaned, patting his belly. "I couldn't." 

"Me either." Mulder pulled a face. "Couldn't eat another thing." 

Doggett felt his face fall. 

"But I'm sure John could be persuaded to force something down." 

Skinner grinned. 

Scully looked hopeful. "Really?" 

"He's just a walking waste-disposal unit," Skinner laughed. 

Doggett opened his mouth to object, then caught the look on Mulder's face. Puzzlement, mixed with burgeoning curiosity. He decided to hold his tongue for the moment. 

"Oh, good. Now I have an excuse." Scully moved as if to rise. 

"No, let me get it for you," Doggett offered. "What and where is it?" 

Scully grinned. "In the freezer - Alabama fudge cake and a choice of either Chunky Monkey or Phish Food." 

Doggett looked at her, remembering another pregnant woman, a hundred years and a lifetime ago. 

"How 'bout both?" he smiled. 

"Man after my own heart," Scully laughed. 

"Comin' right up," he told her, gathering plates. 

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Scully told him. 

"It's fine," Skinner said, doing the same. "You cooked, we'll clear." 

"Well, if you're sure?" 

"Absolutely." Doggett stacked the crockery. 

"In that case," Scully announced. "I'm going to sit in the lounge, feet up, and we can eat dessert in there." 

"Go ahead." Skinner took glasses in his hand. "Won't be a minute." Rising awkwardly, Scully waved at Mulder. "Coming?" 

"Yep," Mulder replied, watching the other men with interest. 

Doggett couldn't be sure if it was because he had finally gotten the message, or if he simply wasn't used to the idea of men offering to clear the dishes. Whatever, he thought. It didn't matter. He walked through, balancing cultery, Skinner at his heels. Placing the plates on the counter, he glanced over his shoulder. Mulder was trailing after Scully, chattering away. A moments peace and quiet. He watched Skinner stacking the plates into the dishwasher. 

"Turns me on - watchin' you bein' domestic," he whispered, leaning against the counter. 

Skinner glanced up, dismissively. "Pervert. Shut up and get the dessert." 

Laughing, Doggett opened the fridge-freezer and dug around. 

"Oh yeah," he groaned, over the tubs of ice cream. 

Skinner looked over his shoulder at the amount going in the two bowls. 

"You're gonna puke," he said, shaking his head. 

"Uh-uh." Doggett grinned. "Not me." He pulled the large cake towards him. "Sure you don't want any?" 

Skinner grimaced. "No way. I value my waistline." 

Doggett grinned, licked the spoon clean and threw it in the sink. It bounced off the edge of the plastic bowl and sloshed into the water. 

"Congratulations," Skinner remarked, wiping washing-up water off his glasses. "Two points." 

Doggett laughed, then nodding his head towards the lounge, whispered. 

"Well, so far, so good." 

"Just you wait," Skinner grunted, putting his glasses back on. "The night's still young." 

Doggett grinned. "You bet," he said, reaching out to run his hand across Skinner's chest. 

The other man stood still, permitting the caress. 

"Thought about what we're gonna say?" Doggett asked, absently thumbing a nipple through Skinner's shirt. 

"Not really. Play it by ear." He grinned, looking pointedly at Doggett's head. 

Baring his teeth in a mock snarl, Doggett pinched the nipple under his hand. "Watch it, big guy." 

"Or else?" Skinner's voice was low and sexy. He leaned into the pinch. "What're you gonna do about it?" 

Doggett stepped a touch closer bringing their noses almost tip to tip. "Oh, I'm gonna do plenty, just you wait and see." 

"That a threat?" Skinner asked quietly, echoing Doggett's words from the night before. 

"Nah." Pushing forward just that little bit more, his breath brushing over Skinner's lips. 

"I'd say it was more of a promise... Sir." 

Just one... That's all he needed. One kiss to keep him going... He brought his lips to touch Skinner's. 

"Scully wants to know if you're ever going to bring her desert, Doggett." 

Mulder appeared in the doorway, hands in pockets. 

Quickly stepping back out of Skinner's personal space, Doggett cleared his throat, embarrassed. He glanced at Mulder. Didn't think he'd seen anything. Had he? 

He scratched the back of his suddenly warm neck. 

"Uh... Sure. Tell her to keep her panties on." 

Mulder chuffed loudly. "I'm not gonna be the one to tell a lady anything remotely like that where dessert's concerned." He wandered in, shaking his head. "I value my nuts." 

Both Skinner and Doggett turned to look at him. 

He lifted both hands. "Hey! Women and chocolate... You just don't wanna get between them. Know what I'm saying?" 

Turning to the cake, Doggett willed his breathing to steady. He hadn't seen anything. 

He would've said. 

Would he ever! 

"You changed your mind about having some of this, Muldah?" he asked, selecting a large knife from the rack. "There's plenty." 

"No thanks. Had enough." He peered into the bowls. "Jumping Jesus, Doggett. You going to eat all that?" 

"He will," Skinner answered for him. "And beg for seconds too, no doubt." 

Mulder whistled through his teeth. "God! I know Scully can put away the chocolate, but you're a guy. We're not supposed to do that." 

"Gimme a break, here. I just wanna keep Dana company." Bald-faced lie, but he didn't give a shit. 

"You'll be keeping her company in the bathroom, throwing your guts up," Mulder commented, leaning on the work surface. 

"I heard that," Scully said, wandering in. "Some of us can take it, and some can't, is all I'm going to say," she said, primly. 

"You tell 'em, Dana." Pushing the blade through the moist icing, Doggett put his weight behind the knife. It was still a tiny bit frozen in the middle. Just the way he liked it. 

Mulder chuckled, tapping the counter with a finger. 

"Yeah, well, I'd still swear Doggett was a woman in men's clothing, but for the fact I've seen him naked." 

Doggett's head whipped round at Mulder's laugh, pushing just that little bit too far on the knife, his thumb disappearing under the edge of the blade. 

* * *

Chapter 16 

Doggett jumped. "Awww SHIT!" Snatching his hand away and gripping his thumb in a tight fist, he bent over, biting his lip. "Shit! Damn!" He paced around the kitchen, trying not to think about what he'd just done. "Ffffffffuck!" 

Bruises, black eyes and bullets he could cope with. Even broken bones held no terrors. But slicing knife wounds were something else. He'd always had a thing about knives. 

"Goddamn!" He screwed his face up, grinding his teeth. 

Sighing, Scully put the kettle down. "Let me see." 

He shook his head, holding his hand tightly. Uh-uh. No way. 

"John..." Skinner walked up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let Scully see." 

Still shaking his head back and forth, Doggett pulled away, desperately trying not to think about the feel of the knife on his thumb. He didn't want to look. Wetness was oozing into his palm. 

"Give it to me," Scully told him, firmly, holding her hand out. 

"No." He ground out between tight teeth. He could feel a wave of heat creeping up from the pit of his stomach. Dammit! He wasn't gonna hurl! No way. 

"John..." The grip on his shoulder returned, tighter. "Tell you what. Let me have a look." 

Taking both of Doggett's hands in his, Skinner turned him round. "Come on," he said. 

"Show me." 

Doggett tugged, trying to take his hands back. "No. Hurts." God, that sounded whiny, but he didn't care. That whole slicing-feeling made his ass clench. 

One of Skinner's hands came up and pulled his chin to look him in the face. 

They stared at each other. 

"I won't hurt you," Skinner said at last. "I promise." 

Putting on his best puppy-dog expression, Doggett gazed back. "Really. I'm fine." 

Skinner nodded his head. "You sure are, but I still want to see." 

Choking back a laugh, Doggett found himself momentarily distracted from the pain. 

The other man smiled at him, covering his hand with a warm palm. 

Doggett sighed and relaxed the death-grip on his hand. He felt the warm spread down his hand and looked away. No way he wanted to see how much of his juice was coming out. 

Mulder whistled in his ear. "That's a good one. Bet it hurts." 

Doggett gave him a poisonous look. Wise ass. 

"Here... Let me see." 

Skinner pushed Doggett's hand towards Scully. She took his wrist in a small hand. 

"It's not that bad, Mulder. Don't exaggerate." 

Mulder pressed forward. "But look - you can see..." 

Doggett groaned, closing his eyes. He didn't want to think about what Mulder could see, but visions of butcher's blocks danced across his mind, anyway. 

Skinner made a noise in the back of his throat and put his free hand back on Doggett's shoulder. 

"You okay, there?" 

Doggett prised his eyes open to look at him. What a dumbass question. 

"Feels like my goddamned thumb's hangin' off," he snapped. "Course I'm not fuckin' alright." 

Skinner grinned. "Temper's still intact, anyway." 

Something poked at his thumb and he yelped. "SHIT!" 

Scully looked up, apologetically. "Sorry. Didn't mean that to hurt." 

"Well it fuckin' did!" Doggett informed her, trying to pull his hand away. 

The famous Scully-eyebrow rose with an amused smile. 

"I told you that if I waited long enough I'd hear the rest of the bad words from you." 

He stared at her for a moment, then sighed, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry." 

"Forget it." She laughed softly. "I expect you're going to be using a few more before we're done." Just to prove her point, she poked again. 

"FFFUCK!" Arching his head back, Doggett screwed up his face, squinting at the ceiling. 

"Bit of a wimp, aren't you?" Mulder spoke from way too close for Doggett's liking. 

"That's not helpful, Mulder," Scully told him, before Doggett had the chance to bite his head off. "Make yourself useful. Go and get my bag from the bedroom. This needs attention." 

Doggett's head snapped back down to look at her. 

"What?" 

Scully gazed back. "Cleaning." She shrugged. "Maybe stitches." 

The contents of Doggett's stomach jumped up at the thought of tugging flesh. 

"No," he croaked, puling his hand back again. 

"John. Get a grip," Scully scolded. "It's just a cut, but it needs looking at properly." 

"Get me a Band-aid. I'll do it." 

"Calm down." Skinner rubbed his back again. "The thought of it's probably worse than it actually is." 

Don't bet on it, Doggett thought, feeling his thumb throb in time with his pulse. 

Scully clucked. 

"It's not all that bad, John. Just a scratch." 

Doggett scowled and looked down. Didn't feel like a fuckin' scratch to him. The neat slice on the edge of his thumb gaped up at him, all red and angry. He could see the meat inside, and a hot rush ran up his back into his face. 

"Oh shit..." he said in a very weak voice, dinner roiling in his belly. He leaned back on Skinner. 

"Hey!" The larger man grabbed his shoulders. "Steady!" 

Doggett pulled in several shaky breaths. "I'm okay," he lied, feeling rather peculiar. 

"Sit him at the table," Scully instructed as Mulder trotted back in with a black bag. "I can see better there." 

She pulled him across the kitchen by the hand, a yelp of pain squeaking out. 

"Sit." Skinner pushed down on his shoulders, and Doggett unhinged at the knees, plopping into the kitchen chair with a thump. 

"You've gone a real funny colour," Mulder said, peering into Doggett's face. "How the hell did you pass the psych tests for the Marines?" 

"Strangely enough they don't slice and dice you to see how you'll react," Doggett told him, grinding his teeth. 

"Pity. You'd have been right out." Mulder leaned back in his chair. 

"Mulder, just shut up, please." Scully rooted in her bag and came up with a handful of items. She handed them to Skinner. "Sort these for me, would you. I'm just going to wash my hands." 

Gripping his wrist in case his hand dropped off, Doggett watched with narrowed eyes as Skinnner set out medi-wipes, gauze and little packets on the table. One glimpse of a needle and he was out of there. He looked up at the other man, who smiled, reassuringly. 

"Relax," Skinner told him. "She's good." 

"Her patients are usually dead," Doggett pointed out. 

Mulder chuckled. "You're something else, Doggett. Never would have thought you were squeamish." 

"Shut up," Doggett snapped. "It's your fault, anyway." 

Mulder looked amazed. "How d'you figure that?" 

"That crack about seeing me..." Doggett frowned and loked down. He didn't want to say it. 

"Naked?" Mulder finished, helpfully. 

Scully sat down, drying her hands. She looked at each of the men. "So when did this happen?" she asked, a smile on her face. 

"That's just what I was wondering," Skinner said. 

Doggett felt uncomfortable. He hadn't told Skinner about his noctural visitor in hospital. Didn't seem important at the time. It just seemed stupid not to have mentioned it, now Mulder was making it into a big deal. 

"It was..." he started to say. 

"You should really wear more in bed, if you're going to wriggle around so much, Doggett," Mulder said, peering over the table to watch Scully open little packets of antiseptic wipes. 

A furious blush raced up Doggett's body. Bastard! 

Scully laughed. She paused in her ministrations, her hand poised above Doggett's finger. "Something you two need to tell us?" 

Mulder shrugged. "Not really," he said, glancing up, a smirk all over his face. "It all happened kinda suddenly." 

"Muldah!" Doggett snapped, embarrassed. "Quit bein' an asshole!" 

He glared at Mulder, wishing he could reach that knife again. "Wasn't the fuckin' highlight of my evening, waking to find you in my hospital room." 

Mulder grinned back. "Funny. Was the highlight of mine." 

Wincing, Doggett glanced at Skinner. He was very quiet. The big man sat expressionless, with only the dark eyes moving, staring at Mulder and then him. Doggett couldn't read them. He had no idea if he was in trouble, or if Skinner was just in AD mode. 

"Naked?" Scully said, that amused expression all over her face. 

"No," Doggett snapped. "I was not." Hospital gowns covered jack shit, but it meant he couldn't be classed as naked. And that was very important. To him, anyway. 

"I had a gown on." 

"Indeed?" Skinner's voice was quiet. Doggett checked out the expression that went with that one word. Blank. 

Shit. 

"Well, those gowns don't exactly..." Mulder began. 

"What were you doing in his room?" Skinner asked, just as quietly. 

Mulder looked up. "Visiting." 

"At night?" Skinner still didn't betray any emotion. It was starting to make Doggett nervous. 

Mulder shrugged. "I couldn't sleep." 

Doggett opened his mouth to spill out that he didn't ask Mulder to visit, that he hadn't liked finding the other man in his room, he hadn't been really naked, he didn't see anything, but a sudden spike of pain in his thumb pulled his attention down to the table. He jerked in pain. 

"Hold still." Scully told him, then swooped down with a wipe, obliterating everything that had Doggett had been about to say. 

"Owwwww!" 

Scully held his hand in a death grip. "Hush," she said, wiping firmly. "And keep still." 

The antiseptic stung like a sonofabitch. 

"SHIT!" Doggett pulled his hand, desperate to get it away. "Goddammit, woman!" 

Scully looked up and gave him a stare that closed his mouth with a snap. He stopped struggling. 

She stared some more. Doggett shifted in his chair. 

"Sorry," he said eventually. 

Without speaking, Scully returned to her wiping. 

Doggett bit his lip and screwed up his face, determined not to whine any more. He bore the wiping and squeezing admirably, only the occasional grunt escaping. Gradually, he became aware that Skinner's hand had never left his back, and was still moving in slow gentle circles. Opening his eyes, he turned slightly to look at the other man. Skinner stared back, a merest hint of a smile ghosting across his lips. He wasn't mad at him. Realisation coursed through Doggett, making him giddy with relief. Shit! What this man could do to him. This just confirmed he was a hopeless case where Skinner was concerned. He leaned back into the touch, feeling the corner of his mouth quirk up in reply. But that was just fine with him. 

"I don't think you'll need stitches, after all." Scully held the digit this way and that. 

"Adhesive ones should do the trick." 

"Thank God," he sighed, pathetically grateful, shoulders sagging. He had an irrational dislike to being stitched up. Or maybe not so irrational, considering the ones he'd endured in the field, sans anaesthetic. 

He looked at Scully. "Thank you. I appreciate that." 

She smiled back, ripping open the packet of webbing stitches. "No problem. Just keep it dry and take it easy. Give it a chance to heal." 

"Sure." 

Skinner would just have to be on top. The thought made him smile, picturing the other man naked, those powerful legs astride his hips. Yeah, he could do that. 

Mulder picked up an empty packet of gauze and studied it. 

"You know, Doggett. I've never met anyone who talks so much in their sleep." 

* * *

Chapter 17 

Scully's kitchen didn't have a clock to mark out the passage of silent time. But the drip of the faucet did the job admirably. All eyes were rivetted to an oblivious Mulder, who was busy trying to make an alien out of the discarded gauze packet. Eventually, the lack of response registered, and he looked up. 

"What?" 

Scully recovered first, and returned to pulling the edges of Doggett's sliced thumb back together. 

She glanced up. "Pass me the gauze please, Walter." 

Silently, never taking his eyes from Mulder's face, Skinner handed over the wad. 

Doggett swallowed. Was he supposed to ask Mulder what he'd said, or just spend the rest of his life wondering? He winced as Scully pressed down. 

"That okay?" she asked, distracting him. 

He nodded. "Yeah. Fine." She proceded to do a winding-thing with some tubi-bandage and a bit of tape, and Doggett watched as his thumb disappeared under a dressing, his mind chattering away to him. What had he said? Was it bad? And never mind that - did he really talk in his sleep? 

"I do?" he said at last, looking back up to Mulder. 

Nodding, the other man gave up on his origami flicked the paper at Doggett and folded his arms. 

"Yep. Lots and lots." 

Very dry throat. "And?" 

Mulder shrugged. "Let's just say it was an education." 

Oh shit. 

Doggett could practically feel the colour draining from his face. 

"Meaning?" he asked, not wanting to hear the answer in the least. 

"Oh, just stuff." 

Doggett ground his teeth. "Elaborate." 

He watched as Mulder's eyes tracked across the table to Skinner, and his guts fell. He didn't... Did he? 

"Muldah..." he growled. 

"It's not as if I was listening on purpose," Mulder said, with an apologetic look on his face. "You just kind of addressed the whole room, you know what I'm saying?" 

"No, I don't. Why don't you tell me?" 

"Well..." Mulder sighed. "It was just weird stuff about something or other not looking like a teardrop, but Africa..." Mulder pulled a 'what the hell face'. 

Unconsciously, Doggett glanced down at his clothed chest, the picture of Skinner's love-bite racing across his mind. 

"...And you also said how they really hurt." He nodded down. "I presume you were talking about... You know..." 

Doggett nodded brusquesly. He didn't want his balls to be the topic of conversation right now. 

"And then you muttered something about some big hairy gorilla." 

That blush raced up again, warming Doggett's ears. He refused to look at Skinner. He could hear little chuffs of amusement coming from the chair next to him. 

Mulder shook his head. "Lot of nonsense really." He laughed. "That was some conversation!" 

Doggett forwned. "What?" 

"A conversation." Mulder mimed with his hands. "You know. Talking." He shrugged. "One-sided." 

"Oh." How bad could that be? He asked himself. Depends with whom you were chatting, his mind replied, warily. 

"I say anything interesting?" God, he hoped not. 

Mulder shook his head. "Rubbish mostly. Grunting and muttering about juice cartons and leather jackets." 

Doggett relaxed. 

"Except..." 

Tensing, Doggett braced himself, praying Mulder wasn't going to say anything incriminating. 

"Except..." He paused, taking Doggett's nerves and stretching them to snapping point. 

"Yes?" he prompted. 

Mulder looked at him. Then looked at Skinner, as if deciding whether or not to say it. 

Doggett took a deep breath, "Go on," he said. "What?" 

"You said..." Again, the hesitation. It was driving Doggett nuts. 

"Oh for goodness sake!" Scully flung an empty packet at Mulder, rolling her eyes. "Just say something or shut up, Mulder! My ice cream's melting." 

Doggett looked from her, to Skinner and back to Mulder. The other two were looking at Mulder, too. Seemed everyone wanted to know what he rambled on about in his sleep. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. This was puttin' years on him. 

"Well... it was kind of personal." 

"That's never stopped you in the past," Doggett sighed. 

"True." Mulder nodded. He pulled in a breath. "You kept saying: 'I do love you, you know.' Over and over.'" 

The dripping of that damned tap echoed round the roaring emptiness Doggett's head. Nobody else at the table seemed inclined to move. His finger throbbed in time with the pounding in his head. 

"Then you asked if they knew that." 

It took all of Doggett's self-control to get the word out quietly. "Who?" 

Mulder grinned widely. "Well, that gorilla, apparently." 

Doggett swallowed. "The gorilla," he said, not daring to turn and look at Skinner. 

Mulder nodded. "The gorilla." 

"Ah." 

Leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands, Mulder stared at him. 

"So. How long have you had a thing about large, hairy primates, Agent Doggett?" 

Across the table, Scully exploded in a shower of giggles that brought her hand to her mouth and tears to her eyes. 

"Gorilla!" she spluttered, gaining a little control, then looking at Skinner, started again. 

Sneaking a look for himself, Doggett was relieved to see that smile on Skinner's face. The big one with all the teeth. He was okay. Doggett tilted his head at Mulder. 

"It's the banana-breath. Can't get enough of it," he said, dead-pan. 

This time, Skinner joined Scully in raucous laughter. Doggett grinned. He loved it when Skinner cut loose like that. He glanced back at Mulder, who sat, still gazing at him, a slight smile on his face. Doggett wondered what was going on behind those eyes. 

"Okay." he said. "Mystery solved. I have a primate problem." 

More titters from the other two. 

Mulder nodded a little, waiting patiently until the others regained their breath. 

"So..." he said when it had gone quiet. "Who is it?" 

Doggett decided to play it dumb. "Who's who?" 

"Your beloved Silverback." 

Drip drip drip went the water, counting the seconds until Doggett replied. He wondered if now was the time. He glanced at Skinner, who had slipped his glasses off to wipe his eyes. He caught the expression on Doggett's face and nodded. So. It was time. Doggett turned back to Mulder, wondering quite how to put it. He sat there, running words through his mind, and not coming up with anything suitable. 

Eventually, Skinner rescued him. "Me," he said, slipping his glasses back on. 

Mulder didn't say a word, just looked from one to the other. Everyone else seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the reaction. 

"No, seriously. Who is it?" Mulder didn't crack his face. 

He didn't get it, Doggett thought in amazement. All the time he's spent teasing, all the smart-assed remarks, and he doesn't get it when it's finally shoved under his nose. He shook his head in disbelief. 

"Go on," Mulder insisted. "Give." 

Doggett looked over at Scully. She seemed to be as dumbstruck as he was that Mulder was so oblivious. He looked at Skinner. He was looking at Mulder with much the same expression on his face as Scully. 

"Well?" 

He was gonna shit when the penny finally drops. 

"Like the man said, Muldah." He shrugged. 

Again the gaze went from one to the other, blankly. Sighing, Mulder laid his hands on the table. 

"Scully. Make him tell me." 

Scully's eyebrow shot up. "What exactly do you want me to do?" 

"I dunno. Poke his thumb or something." 

Scully shook her head, amused. "I don't think so, Mulder." 

Doggett's hand disappeared underneath the table, just in case. "Muldah. You asked. He told you." 

"Yeah, right." Mulder rolled his eyes. "Like I'm gonna fall for that." 

He pointed at Skinner. "Nice try." 

Doggett looked helplessly at Scully, who just shrugged. What the hell? 

Mulder turned to Skinner. "No way." 

Skinner merely smiled. "You think?" 

Mulder's eyes narrowed. "You're just trying to yank my chain for all the times I..." 

Skinner shook his head. "No. I'm not." 

Mulder held up hand. "Uh-uh." 

"Why not?" Skinner seemed genuinely interested. 

"You're hardly the type." 

Doggett laughed softly. "There's a 'type'?" he asked, shaking his head. 

Mulder's eyebrow shot up. He stared at Doggett in a way that made him both uncomfortable and a little pissed off. 

He snorted. "Not everyone looks good in pastels, Muldah." 

The other man grinned. "I don't know, Doggett. I think you carry it off." 

Narrowing his eyes, Doggett leaned forward, bringing his hands out from under the table. "Wanna lean forward and say that again?" 

"Bit late to try for 'butch' now," Mulder laughed. "Not now I've heard you squeal like a girl..." He smirked. "And seen what you look like in a baby blue hospital gown." 

Doggett braced himself. 

He felt Skinner's hand on his shoulder, holding him back. 

"What'll it take, Mulder?" 

"Huh?" 

"For you to get the picture. What'll it take?" 

Mulder frowned. "I don't get it." 

"You want promises?" 

Mulder just stared at him. Scully snorted from across the table. 

"Sworn statements?" 

Again, no reaction from Mulder. 

"How about pictures?" 

Scully made a different kind of noise from across the table. Oh yeah, thought Doggett. She's a 90%'er, alright. He surpressed a smile. She was no doubt producing her own polaroids in her head right now. 

Skinner sighed. 

"How about this?" 

A large hand was suddenly gripping the back of Doggett's neck, turning his head, and just as the action filtered through his consciousness, Skinner's mouth was on his. 

Oh shit. 

Wide-eyed, Doggett's protests were muffled by the tongue that was pushing between his lips. Not in front of... not in front of... This was wrong! This was... His eyes slid shut. This was wonderful. Leaning into the kiss, Doggett brought his own hand up to cup Skinner's face and opened his mouth wider. Godamn... This hairy old gorilla was good. 

* * *

Chapter 18. 

It must have been a couple of minutes, at least, Doggett reckoned. A couple of minutes that sped by for him, but he'd lay odds it dragged by second by tortuous second for Mulder. As Skinner released him, breathless, he grinned wetly. And Scully?... He'd bet she was sitting there with her mouth resting on the kitchen table. He turned to have a look. Yep. Her eyes were almost as big as her mouth. His grin broadened. That'd give her something to think about at night. Shaking his head at himself for thinking such a thing, he felt Skinner's hand squeezing his neck. Doggett glanced at him and winked. 

"Thanks," he said. 

"My pleasure," Skinner rumbled in that delicious baritone. 

Doggett turned to see if Mulder had fainted clean away. 

Not quite, but judging by his colour, it was a close thing. Slack-jawed and silent, the other agent sat staring at them. 

Feeling deliciously reckless, Doggett reached over and passed a hand in front of his eyes. 

"Hello? Agent Muldah? You in there?" 

Not a sound. 

"Think he's had a seizure, Dana?" Skinner asked. 

"I wouldn't be surprised," she replied, in a very small voice. 

Doggett leaned forward, clicking his fingers. "Earth to Muldah? Come in. Your time is up." 

Watching as the implications of what he and Skinner had just done filtered into Mulder's consciousness, Doggett tried not to hold his breath. There was a lot riding on his reaction. He could feel Skinner squeezing the back of his neck gently, an action that betrayed the other man's nervousnes. Doggett glanced at him, not really surprised to see no trace of those nerves on his face. It was as impassive as ever. He wondered how he did that. Doggett knew his own feelings were broadcast all over his face. 

"So?" he prompted, suddenly eager to to know what they would be dealing with. 

"Huh?" Mulder looked at him, the hazel eyes slowly coming into focus. 

Doggett raised his brows questioningly. 

Frowning, Mulder rose from the table and ran a hand through his hair. 

"I don't..." he started to say, then turned and moved to stand in front of the sink. 

Doggett looked over at Scully, wondering what she was making of Mulder's reaction. She was staring at his back, a frown on her face. 

"Mulder?" she said. "You have a problem with this situation?" 

"No," came the eventual reply, but the set of his shoulders screamed: 'yes'. 

"Sit down and behave like a mature adult, then." 

Mulder turned to give her a look over his shoulder. Doggett watched them stare at one another, mystified by what appeared to be an utterly silent argument. Raised eyebrows from Scully got a scowl from Mulder. A pout from him, got a tilt of the head from her. Doggett's head went back and forth, tennis-match style, the dripping of the faucet accentuating the silence. He glanced at Skinner, a 'what the hell' look on his face, but Skinner just shrugged, 'dunno' written all over his. Finally sighing, Doggett watched Mulder visibly conced the battle. He turned off the dripping with a savage twist and swung round to face them. 

"I don't believe it," he said, folding his arms. 

"Oh, for goodness sake, Mulder!" Scully sighed. 

Doggett rolled his eyes. Jeez! After all that? "What, Mulder? What don't you believe?" 

A hand came up to point at Skinner. "Him," he said. "I don't believe he's a..." 

He let the silence fill in the missing word. 

"A what?" Skinner asked, stiffly. 

"You know..." Mulder nodded. "The type that's into pastel..." He faded away. 

"I don't know anything about colours, Agent Mulder." Skinner ran his hand up the back of Doggett's neck to ruffle his hair. "But this is definitely my type." 

"I don't believe it." 

Skinner looked incredulously, from Mulder to Doggett's mouth. "Even after what I just did?" 

Mulder nodded. 

Skinner sighed. "Why else do you think I'd kiss Agent Doggett like that?" 

"A joke?" 

Skinner looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "A joke? You think I'd do that for a joke?" 

Mulder had the good grace to look sheepish. 

"You don't have a very high opinion of me, do you Mulder?" 

"I'm sorry..." Mulder rubbed his eyes. 

The action looked helpless, and not a little despairing, making Doggett feel sorry for the other man. 

"Hey, Muldah," he said, waiting until he looked up again. "Seems you were right about me after all." He smiled as he spoke, trying to lighten the moment. 

Mulder stared back at him, still strangely silent. 

"And all that time..." he started to say. He cleared his throat. "All that time. You let me think..." 

Doggett wondered if he was angry about that. He hoped not. 

"Damn. I was right." He shook his head. "Who'd have thought?" 

He was staring at Doggett thoughtfully, his fat lower lip held between his teeth. In fact, the way he was staring was making Doggett more than a little uncomfortable. He couldn't read the expression on his face. Doggett wondered what that look meant. 

Eventually tilting his head at Doggett, Mulder gave a small grin. "I never really thought you were 'batting for the opposition', you know." 

Doggett widened his eyes. "No?" 

"I was just trying to press your buttons." 

Doggett snorted. "Yeah? You were testing me, more like." 

Mulder gave a series of rapid blinks, as if startled. "What?" 

Doggett stared back, now the faucet was silent, he could hear the sound of a penny dropping, echoing in his head. 

Shit. 

Oh... shit. 

That penny rolled around, moving in ever-decreasing circles around the truth, until it fell over with a dull clunk. It wasn't Skinner. It was never about Skinner. He stared across the table at Mulder, hearing all the double-entendres, snippy remarks and jokes shouting in his mind. All the smart-assed side-swipes about him being queer... Oh, fucking hell. Doggett swallowed, wondering if he should say anything. Shit, what the hell could he say? He stared, saying nothing. Once again, Mulder had stolen his ability to speak. Moments before it all got too much, Mulder broke the eye contact and gave a dry bark of laughter. 

"What d'you know! Hide the truth in plain sight. It works!" He turned. 

"Hey, Scully! Doggett's gay!" 

Doggett felt a mixture of relief and irritation surge through him. That felt more like situation normal as far as Mulder was concerned. Something like 'normal', anyway. He didn't know how he was going to feel about what he'd just learned about the other man, when it sank all the way in. He'd imagined he was going to have some major re-evaluation work to do in his head. Not to mention some embarrassing explaining to do to Skinner. 

"How about that?" Mulder was recovering himself. "Bet you're stunned, aren't you, Scul?" 

Scully regarded him calmly. "Not really," she said. 

"Disappointed, then?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

She smiled enigmatically. "I already knew." 

Doggett watched Mulder's mouth drop for the second time in the last five minutes. He wished he'd got this on tape. He could watch it forever. 

"What?!" 

Shrugging, Scully stood up, dropped the slices of cake into two bowls and carried them back to the table in Mulder's shocked silence."I knew," she said, pushing one of the bowls over to Doggett. 

"No way!" Mulder was outraged. 

Primly spooning mostly melted Chunky Monkey into her mouth she just batted her eyelids. 

Mulder whipped his head round to the other two. "She's lying, isn't she?" 

Digging his spoon in, Doggett shook his head, unable to resist having a stab. 

"She knew." He took a mouthful, feeling his tastbuds cramp in delight. 

And then, just because he was still hearing the echo of all the hard times Mulder had dished out, he loaded his spoon and offered it to Skinner. Out of the corner of his eye, Doggett was satisfied to see Mulder gape as the AD took the mouthful with a smile. 

"Actually, Mulder," Scully said chasing her dessert around the dish. "I think Walt must be gay, too. Considering." 

Was there a slight blush to her face as she said that? Doggett couldn't be sure. Mulder sat and did fish impersonations, mouth flapping, nothing coming out. 

"Don't you think?" she prompted. 

Oh, but there was a definate blush on Mulder's face, Doggett noted with vicious glee. He wondered what images that was bringing forth in his mind. 

"Yeah, well..." Again, he trailed off. 

Shit, he could really get used to this speechless version of Mulder. Payback. 

"You maybe need a replay, Mulder?" Skinner asked pleasantly, bringing his hand up to the back of Doggett's head. 

Doggett watched that blush deepen all over Mulder's face. 

He grinned around a mouthful of chocolate. "Fine by me," he said, laying the spoon down, licking his lips clean and waiting for Mulder to object. 

There was no comment from across the table. 

Doggett looked up at him in time to see something skitter across his face. Something pale from lack of sunlight, that was dragging a whole boxful of issues along with it. 

"Well?" Skinner tugged Doggett a little closer. 

Finally, Mulder sighed. "No. It's okay." He held his hands up in resignation. 

"I believe you." 

Skinner's mouth was dangerously close. "Sure?" 

No. He wasn't, Doggett thought. That look on his face said he wasn't sure at all. 

Mulder sighed. "I think I can live without seeing that again, thank you sir." 

Doggett didn't think that was because he didn't like it. 

"I'd like to see it again," Scully said, licking both sides of her spoon clean. 

Doggett looked at her. She had a gleam in her eye and a smirk on her face. 100%'er. Definitely. 

"I don't do requests," Skinner said, saving Doggett from having to think of something to say. 

"Shame." She went back to her ice cream. 

Doggett exchanged a glance with Skinner and shook his head. You just never knew about some people. He stirred his dessert around, mixing the mess of chocolate together. Wasn't that the truth? 

"You going to eat that?" Skinner asked, nodding at the bowl. 

"You bet." He shovelled a loaded, dripping spoon in his mouth to prove his point. The big man winced. "You never cease to amaze me." 

Doggett laughed and choking on fudge cake crumbs, his eyes watering, spluttered into his hand. 

"Or is that 'disgust' me?" Skinner asked, pounding on his back. 

Gasping and wheezing with chocolatey breath, Doggett grinned at him. 

"So you and this..." Mulder waved a hand at the throat-clearing Doggett. 

"Eating machine are..." He winced. "You know?" 

Skinner reduced the pounding to a pat, and then a rub, looking at Doggett while he got his breath back. 

"Yes, Mulder. We are," he said softly, catching Doggett's eye and smiling. 

He looked up at Mulder. "Do you have a problem with that?" 

There was a question. 

Doggett looked at Mulder, waiting for his answer. Head tipping from one side to the other, Mulder regarded both men carefully. Whatever thoughts were going through his mind were hidden for the moment. He seemed to be considering the question in some detail. 

"Well," he began. "I've always liked the concept of 'extreme possibilities'." 

He shrugged. "And I'd say this definitely falls into that catagory." 

"You won't be reporting this as a breach of conduct, then?" 

Doggett was glad Skinner asked that. He didn't think he was brave enough. 

Mulder tilted his head. "What would be the point of that?" 

Skinner shrugged. "I"m sure the DD would be interested." 

Mulder laughed softly. "Well, that's a good enough reason not to tell him, then isn't it?" 

He spread his hands. "Look. It's cool. Really it is." He glanced over to Scully. 

"As long as you realise it's open-season on bad-taste jokes and sly innuendo, then it's fine with me." 

"No change there, then," Doggett said with a wry grin. 

"Absolutely." Mulder grinned back. "If you two are going to be doing the nasty, then you gotta expect a hard time." He snickered at his pun. 

Skinner and Scully winced. 

"Wouldn't expect any less of you, Agent Muldah." Doggett shook his head. 

He seemed to be handling it all remarkably well. Considering. 

"Mulder," Scully sighed. "You could always show a modicum of decorum." 

All three men looked at her. 

She looked back. "Well, he could." 

"Yeah." Doggett snorted. "Let me know when he's gonna try that one, I wanna be sitting down when it happens." 

"I hear that," Skinner agreed, giving one last squeeze to Doggett's neck before moving his hand away. 

He missed the touch immediately. 

Digging conscientiously in his bowl for a few minutes, Doggett concentrated on giving his dessert the attention it deserved. Might not look like much, but it sure tasted good. A folded piece of surgical tape spun across the table to land in his bowl. Scowling, Doggett fished it out distainfully. Two guesses where that came from. 

"Hey, Doggett - how come you kept your talents hidden?" 

He looked up as Mulder slid himself back into his chair. That smart-ass grin was back on his face again. Placing the tape on the pile of trash, he licked his fingers clean. 

"What d'you mean?" he asked, wondering how bad the reply was going to be this time. 

And tolerant of this new relationship or not, if he made one more crack about him sleeping naked... That had be viewed in a whole new light, now. 

"You never let on." 

Rolling his eyes, Doggett sighed in resignation. Bastard was making him work for it. 

"Let on 'bout what?" 

"That you could sing." 

Doggett looked blank. "What?" 

Laughing, Mulder waved a finger, conducting. "You know. Sing." 

"When have you ever heard me do that?" The man was deranged. 

Mulder waggled his eyebrows. "In the hospital." 

Doggett's own eyebrows shot up. "I did not sing in hospital!" 

"Yep. You did." 

He shook his head. "When?" 

Laughing, Mulder stole a fingerful of the ice cream left in Doggett's bowl. 

"In your sleep." 

Outraged by both the suggestion and the theft, Doggett pulled his bowl towards himself and glared. "I did not." 

"Did too." 

He snorted. "Get outta here! No-one sings in their sleep." 

"Fraid you do, Agent Doggett." Mulder chuckled. "Something in Italian, I think." 

Doggett shook his head. "Bullshit." The joker was just trying to wind him up again. 

"Erm..." 

Incredulously, Doggett turned to look at Skinner. 

"Actually," Skinner said, scratching the side of his head. "I didn't like to say anything..." 

Doggett felt his mouth drop. "What?" 

Smiling, Skinner shrugged. "Get woken on a regular basis, mostly humming, but I get treated to the occasional chorus." 

"You've never mentioned..." 

"Well, I thought it was sweet." 

Doggett's hackles rose. "Sweet?" he said, pulling a face. "Gimme a break." 

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for a good tenor." 

Doggett glared. He didn't believe it. Not for a second. "Bullshit," he said again, a hideous sense of self-doubt rising in the pit of his stomach. His ex had never said anything about this. And she'd have loved to have thrown this one at him. 

He looked from Mulder to Skinner. "This is a joke, right?" 

Two heads shook. 

This was nuts. 

"Really?" Scully looked fascinated. "In his sleep?" 

Skinner nodded. "He's not bad, actually." 

"What sort of things?" 

Doggett glared some more. This was gettin' out of hand. 

"Oh, light opera. Sometimes rock. I like the Springsteen best." 

"Any Abba?" Mulder asked, smirking. 

Skinner gave him a stern look. "No Mulder. No Abba." 

"Perhaps you could give us a little demonstration, John?" Scully suggested. 

"No." 

A touch brusque, but he was feeling out-numbered and insecure. 

"Oh, go on, Doggett." Mulder tapped the side of his dessert bowl. "Give us something from 'South Pacific'." 

Gripping his spoon tightly, Doggett glared and made a warning noise deep in his throat. 

"Ohh! You hear that, Scully? He growled at me!" Mulder laughed delightedly. 

"He actually growled!" 

Skinner laid a hand on his arm. "Down boy." Something warm brushed across his cheek. 

He realised Skinner had kissed his bruise. 

"Be a good Doggett, and you can have some more ice cream later." 

Doggett gave him a sideways look. If he was going to be good and not knock Mulder into the middle of next week, then he had better have something more interesting than ice cream to give him. Grinning, Skinner winked, telling him all he needed to know about what he was going to give him later. He grinned back. Maybe they'd get that early night after all. 

the end 

lots of love,   
From Forbes XXX 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Forbes 


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